Failure
by RobinLady-in-Waiting
Summary: Meg wants a child so badly she turns to a fertility clinic.
1. Chapter 1

_**Macy's Department Store ….**_

"Mommy, Mommy, look at this one, she looks just like me!" A little girl of about six years old with big, blue eyes and waist length blonde hair tugged on her mother's wool coat as Meg strolled down the toy aisle, trying to find a birthday gift for her friend, Patricia's, two year old daughter.

"Oh, she does, Alyssa." The woman, in her late twenties, knelt down beside the little girl and held the doll up beside her daughter. Chattering away, the little girl's eyes danced with excitement. Meg stopped pushing her cart and watched the mother and daughter talking for a minute. The little girl threw her arms around her mother's neck when she agreed to buy the moderately priced doll. A lump formed in Meg's throat as she turned away, pretending to read the label of a Winnie the Pooh plush teddy bear.

"I knew I should have sent Turnbull to buy a gift." Meg lamented as she felt a tear in the corner of her eye.

"May I help you, Dear?" An older woman asked, a store vest over her white blouse, large, round glasses perched on her nose beneath gray curls. Meg whirled around and greeted the store employee with her best, diplomatic smile.

"I'm trying to decide on a gift for a two year old." Meg explained, holding up Winnie the Pooh.

"Oh, where is the little tyke, with their father I suppose." The kindly, older lady put her hands together as she smiled.

"No, she doesn't have a father." Meg mentally slapped herself. The older woman's eyes widened.

"What I meant was, the child isn't mine, I don't have children, it's for a college friend's daughter." Meg amended, her face feeling hot.

"Well, that's too bad, a young thing like you should have two or three by now." The older woman walked over to the toddler section and took a red, Fisher-Price three wheeler off the shelf. It was only a few inches off the ground and had big, fat tires on it.

_ "It's not from a lack of wanting to, I assure you."_ Meg thought to herself as she stepped down the aisle behind the woman.

"This should be a good gift, the little darling can play with it in the house or outside when the weather cooperates." The older woman suggested. Meg balked at the price, it was a good ten percent more than she'd budgeted, but she also felt desperate to get out of the toy section. Hanging on every peg were reminders of something she felt she'd never have. Quickly, she took the three wheeler and placed it in her cart, thanking the woman as she helped her carry it.

"You're welcome, Dear, I'm sure the little tyke will love it." The older woman pushed her glasses back onto her nose with the back of her hand. Meg walked away, the lump still in her throat but a feeling of emptiness growing in her stomach. She paid for the three wheeler and had it gift wrapped before she left.

When the lady Mountie arrived at the consulate a short while later she still felt heavyhearted. She wanted to feel a little one's arms around her neck and to hear them call her 'Mommy'.

"Good afternoon, Inspector Thatcher, I have your correspondence right here, I've taken the liberty of sorting the mail according to sender, with what you call, 'junk mail', in the back of the stack, although I'm not certain where this Roaman's catalog would fall." Constable Turnbull, a bright and shining annoyance Meg tried not to kill on a daily basis greeted her.

"Just give me the mail, Turnbull." Meg sighed, frowning up at him. With a nod, he laid the large stack of mail in her hand and took a step backward.  
"Thank you, Turnbull, dismissed." Meg shooed him away as she made her way to her office.

"May I carry that package for you, Sir?" Turnbull offered. With a tired sigh, Meg gave him the gift then turned to open her office door.

"Thank you kindly, Turnbull, that's all." Meg smiled but it didn't reach her dark eyes. She wanted to be alone for a while.

"Ah, Inspector Thatcher, there you are." Constable Benton Fraser's voice shattered Meg's dreams of being alone. It's not that she didn't enjoy his company, on the contrary, she wanted to spend everyday near him. Like a baby, the handsome Mountie felt like something Meg couldn't have.

"Yes, Constable Fraser, come in." Meg sat down at her chair and began sorting through her mail for herself. Turnbull set the gift bag on a chair and left the office.

"Inspector, I'm afraid my 744-8 form is incorrect, I realized the mistake after I'd already turned it in for the week." Fraser began, a new 744-8 form in hand. Meg knew him well enough to know there was probably a self-written reprimand form attached to it.

"I'll take care of it, Fraser." She held out her hand for the form without looking up.

"Don't you wish to look at the form to make certain it's correct?" Fraser asked, laying the paper in her hand carefully.

"I'm certain you've double checked the new form, Fraser, just don't do it again, understood?" Meg met his gaze, her tone dry.

"Yes, Sir." With a nod, the Mountie waited for a dismissal.

"Was there something else, Fraser?" Meg demanded.

"No, Sir, I was just leaving." Benton turned on his boot heel and left the office.

After he closed the door, Meg laid her head on her desk and let out a long, forced breath. She felt frustrated and unhappy. There was only one person who could lift her spirits and that was her. Still, the lady Mountie felt like she'd lost traction in her personal life. Her professional life wasn't going much better. Her superior officers in Ottawa were always breathing down her neck about Fraser's extracurricular activities, despite the good press he brought to the Canadian government.

"I've got to do something different, something has to change." Meg whispered to herself as she tried to pull herself out of the doldrums and get in on the pile of paperwork awaiting her from Fraser's latest investigation into the theft of a semi truck full of cocaine hidden in frozen chicken.

While trying to apprehend the driver, the semi had jack knifed and ended up in a ditch, slicing through a dozen trees. Four heavy tow truck were required to pull the trailer out of the ditch and then the contents had spilled out all over the shoulder of the road. It had taken road crews four days to clear the wreckage.

_**Thursday Afternoon ….**_

Meg carried the shopping bag with her friend's gift in it into a crowded community center room decorated with balloons and streamers. It was a large room with standard issue tile floors and white walls. Four folding tables, each eight feet long, made a horse shoe shape dining area while a fifth set off to the side. Cake, ice cream and refreshments were spread out along the festive table cloth.

"Hello, Meg, come on in." A petite, blonde woman with short hair and a sweater freshly stained with peas greeted her warmly.

"Hello, Patricia, how are you?" Meg pointed to the peas on her shirt cuff but didn't say anything.

"Oh, good I guess, I got four hours of sleep some time this morning." The petite woman shrugged and threw her hands up. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, thank you kindly." Meg responded automatically. Looking around the room, Meg counted ten toddlers and their mothers. She felt out of place.

"Just set that down at the end of the cake table, we were just getting ready to serve then sing, have a seat and join the fun." Patricia indicated an assortment of other gifts already on the table.

"I'm sorry, Patricia, but I can't stay, I have a meeting across town with the Swedish Ambassador's assistant." Meg begged off, praying Patricia wouldn't mind. After the fiasco at Macy's the day before, she didn't think she could stand being around so many happy mothers and their babies, all full of giggles and soft, round cheeks.

"That's too bad, Meg, I wish you could stay so we could catch up. It's been hard to carve out the time for some girl talk lately, what with Denver and Mattie always needing my attention, the housework and my job." Patricia beamed proudly. She had a full, busy, kinda crazy life and she loved every minute of it.

"Yes, I'd love to stay and catch up but you know the nature of the diplomatic beast." Meg's understanding smile didn't reach her dark eyes.

"Have fun." Patricia rolled her eyes, a darling cherub pulling on her pant leg for attention.

"Mommy, I'm fursty." The girl said, hiding behind her mother when she noticed Meg watching.

"Just a second, Mattie." Patricia pulled the pink and purple clad girl up onto her hip and turned to Meg.

"I'll call you later, Patricia." The lady Mountie waved at the two year old and walked back out the double glass door of the community center.

Meg walked down the sidewalk, pulling on her red coat's collar to dodge the forceful breeze that made Chicago the Windy City. She wiped away tears that had gathered in her eyes with her free hand.

_"Mommy, I'm fursty."_ Kept ringing in her ears. Meg envied Patricia her crazy, busy life so much she almost hated her. She didn't know what made them so different. Patricia had been an ambitious, hardworking attorney for a high power law firm for nearly a decade in Ottawa. She and Meg had become friends while Meg was a rookie officer and Patricia was a lowly clerk. They'd both wanted to shatter the glass ceiling while wearing Channel and silk.

Now Patricia was wearing discount store sweaters stained with peas and had a thirty year mortgage here in Chicago. Meg worked sixty hours at the consulate every week while Patricia worked nonstop between the customs office and her family. Still, the lady Mountie envied her friend both the stress and the satisfaction of family life.

_**TYKTYKTYK**_


	2. Chapter 2 Lincheon

_**Solution ….**_

While riding in a smelly, yellow taxi through pre-rush hour traffic, Meg watched the lights of various businesses roll by in the sea of traffic. One of them caught her eye, Windy City Women's Clinic. A sign in the window stated: _Now Accepting New Patients, Dr. Andrew Milton, Fertility Specialist._ Meg leaned closer to the window, trying to memorize the name and location of the building.

_ "I'll call for an appointment this afternoon." _Meg thought to herself as she pulled an ink pen from her purse and wrote on the palm of her hand. If she couldn't have a family the old fashioned way, she'd have one the modern way, _her _way.

_**TYKTYKTYK**_

"Good afternoon, Windy City Women's Clinic, how may I help you?" A friendly, woman's voice greeted Meg as she waited nervously on the other end of her cell phone line.

"I'd like to make an appointment with Dr. Milton." She tried to sound calmer than she felt. There was something so forbidden about it all for Meg.

"Name please?" The receptionist asked. The lady Mountie hesitated, not sure if she should give them her RCMP rank or not.

Finally, she went with, "Meg Thatcher." The receptionist gave her appointment options and the lady Mountie chose one for three days later.

"Constable Turnbull, please check the master schedule for any appointments on Thursday." Inspector Thatcher dialed her subordinate's extension after hanging up with the clinic.

"One moment please." Turnbull hummed as he flipped through the planner they all referred to for consular events.

"Inspector Thatcher, there's a luncheon scheduled for Thursday afternoon at one o'clock for the Swiss ambassador's birthday." Turnbull informed her in his annoyingly official, cheerful tone.

"Thank you, Turnbull." Meg hung the phone up. That didn't give her much time for a consultation appointment.

"I suppose if I'm going to be a working mother I should start learning how to juggle now." She thought to herself as she looked at the post-it note on her desk.

_**Thursday ….**_

Dr. Andrew Milton was an older man with white hair and thick glasses across a ruddy complexion. He looked like he should be helping Santa double check his list for Christmas. He walked into the exam room carrying Meg's freshly made chart, a forty-something nurse trailing behind him.

"Hello, Ms. Thatcher," He shook Meg's hand with a surprisingly warm grip. "I understand from your questionnaire that you're interested in in vitro fertilization." Dr. Milton spoke as if he were talking about something as simple as a sinus infection or a planter wart.

"Yes, my biological clock is ticking louder by the day." Meg adjusted the paper gown she'd had to change into for the initial examination.

"You're a professional woman then?" Milton washed his hands up past his wrists in a sink near the door of the exam room.

"Yes, I'm the Chief Liaison Officer attached to the Canadian Consulate here in Chicago." Meg answered, watching the doctor take his time.

"Sounds complicated." The doctor grinned, adjusting his eye glasses with a piece of paper towel he'd dried his hands on.

"More like stressful." Meg admitted, wondering how this exam would differ from her usual, yearly, gynecological exams.

"High amounts of stress can be detrimental to fertility." Dr. Milton said as he pulled a pair of exam gloves out of a box on the side of the sink.

_"I'm going to have to transfer Turnbull, soon."_ The Inspector thought to herself as she laid back on the table.

_**Afterward …**_

Meg felt like every nerve was jangled after the exam. She'd had blood drawn, had to have a urine analysis, and a gyno exam. She looked at her watch and it was already twelve forty-five by the time she slipped back into her navy pumps. By the time she swung by the consulate and picked up Ambassador Jensen's gift it would be nearly one-thirty.

After checking out of the clinic Meg called the consulate, as much as she loathed it, she had to talk to Turnbull. Ten minutes of explanation later, she finally told him the reason for her call.

"Turnbull, have Constable Fraser take the ambassador's gift to the luncheon for me and I'll meet him there in a few minutes, I'm stuck in traffic." It wasn't quite the truth but Meg wasn't about to tell him she was going home to change after a gynecologist's exam.

"Understood, Sir, be careful." He wished her with his usual sunniness. Meg rolled her eyes and hung up.

_**TYKTYKTYK**_

Fraser carried the Canadian whiskey wrapped in bubble wrap and placed in a tall, narrow, red gift bag with a very formal birthday card attached, white tissue paper crinkling with every step. Diefenbaker trotted along, people watching and sniffing trash cans as they passed them. A set of twins pulled away from their mother's hands and rushed toward him.

"Lindsey, Lilah, come here." The frantic woman called as she rushed to pull them away from the deaf half wolf. Fraser knelt down beside his furry friend, right on the first graders' levels.

"It's pretty!" One of the identical twins exclaimed as she stopped short of Dief. The wolf had stopped and sat back on his haunches, looking at Fraser for help. He loved children, but he didn't like the feel of their little fingers pulling at his fur or worse yet, getting something sticky in it.

"He's part wolf." Fraser said as he laid a hand on Dief's neck.

The twins' mother took her daughters' hoods and pulled them away from the strange dog. Her eyes were wide and she seemed a bit scared.

"That's neat, where'd you get him, Mister?" The other twin asked, her eyes as bright as the North Star.

"Diefenbaker saved my life five of six years ago, he found me." Fraser answered the child patiently.

"Does he howl like the ones on TV?" The first twin asked, pulling on her mother's grip.

"It's not polite to ask strangers questions, Lindsey, remember what we talked about the other day, you shouldn't speak to people you don't know." The mother squatted down and pulled her twins in close.

"I'm sorry, Sir, you know how kids are." She turned to Fraser and gave an apologetic smile. Both twins had her green eyes and dusting of freckles across their noses.

"Yes, Ma'am." He nodded with a friendly smile.

"Your mother is quite right, talking to strangers can be dangerous." Fraser agreed, looking from one girl to the other. Both of them pulled on their mother, trying to get their hands on Dief's silky coat.

"We know, it's just that he's so pretty." Lilah said, looking up pleadingly at her mother.

"Would you mind terribly if they pet your wolf, Sir?" The woman asked giving her daughter a wary glance.

"It's quite alright, Ma'am." Fraser answered, peering up at the petite woman. The girls pulled out of her grasp and began bombarding the deaf wolf with affection. He whined pathetically, making Fraser smile mischievously.

"Okay, girls, it's time to find a place to eat, we're late." Both girls hugged Dief and took their mother's hand.

"Thank you, Sir." The woman lingered, fishing for the handsome stranger's name.

"Constable Benton Fraser, RCMP." He obliged. From somewhere down the street came the sound of a church bell. A single chime; one o'clock.

"Oh dear, I should go." Fraser nodded toward Dief and the pair took off at top speed toward the luncheon.

_**TYKTYKTYK**_

Meg arrived at the luncheon at five past the hour. She was shaking hands with the ambassador when she saw a flash of red. Her temper rose as she recognized Fraser. He stepped into line after her.

"My apologies, Sir, I was …." Meg looked up at him, her lips pursed and a dark brow raised above a cold, brown eye. Fraser simply gave her a small nod.

The Swiss Ambassador, Josef Jovanson, stood smiling and shaking hands with more people than he could possibly remember by himself. He was a tall, weathered man in his mid forties with a resonate voice and piercing blue eyes. Meg knew from experience he could dance with the best and that he was widely read with a dry sense of humor. He politely shook Inspector Thatcher's hand, lingering to ask her how she'd been since they'd seen each other last. Fraser waited in perfectly calm silence. That didn't keep his eyes from straying to the way Jovanson held Meg's hand in both of his or the way he kept glancing down at the crystal teardrop on a silver chain sparkling in the V of her maroon blouse. The Mountie clenched his jaw and took a deep breath as he waited for his superior officer to step aside.

"Ah, Constable Fraser, the Mountie I've read so much about in the local papers." Jovanson moved on to Ben, his handshake short and firm. Fraser couldn't help but give him the tightest grip he could muster. He saw the man wince a second before he smiled broader to cover it up.

"Ambassador Jovanson, hello." Fraser greeted him politely.

"Hello, Josef." An old golf buddy of the ambassador's called from the entrance to the dining area of the French restaurant where they'd been invited to dine.

"Licentious creep." Meg whispered when she got out of ear shot of the ambassador. She toyed with her necklace charm before pulling her blouse's lapels closer together. Fraser heard the remark but remained silent. Together they walked over to the round table for twelve in the corner of the large dining hall and sat down.

"I trust you brought the ambassador's gift as I had Turnbull tell you." Thatcher said through a smile as she sat down in the chair Fraser had pulled out for her.

"I must have left before Turnbull received the phone call." Fraser said, pulling out a chair for himself. Meg's eyes went wide with shock.

"I didn't stop by the consulate after my doctor's appointment." She gasped, turning to her subordinate.

Fraser turned his head to the side, confused. A doctor's appointment, whatever for? He didn't like the sound of that.

Meg wanted to sink into the chair upholstery and disappear. She hadn't told anyone about her appointment. Trying to explain it would only make it seem suspicious so she said nothing.

"I took the liberty of bringing the ambassador's gift and card when you hadn't arrived at the consulate by a quarter after twelve." Fraser spoke low, his eyes steady on Inspector Thatcher's. He saw her relax.

"Thank you, Constable Fraser, that shows initiative." Meg managed to sound condescending and thankful at the same time.

"You're most welcome, Inspector." Fraser laid his napkin in his lap as other guests arrived at the table. Waiters in dark, elegant uniforms served prepared dishes and wine. The Mountie abstained from the wine, laying his hand across the glass when they offered. Meg looked at the red wine then frowned. She drank a glass on rare occasions, like this luncheon, but with the prospect of getting pregnant looming, she decided to start herself on a healthy diet. Alcohol did not fit into her meal plan anymore.

The luncheon was a bore but with good food. A few of the ambassador's cronies gave speeches and they all sang "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow" before he opened presents. Meg's head ached from boredom by the time the first speech and the first course were over. Fraser had struck up a conversation with a deputy foreign affairs director's wife. She was old enough to be his mother but they seemed to be enjoying a lively discussion on the American justice system. When the older woman excused herself to the powder room an hour and a half later, Meg leaned over and whispered,

"I'm going to pretend to go to the restroom, leave ten minutes after I'm gone and I'll be waiting down the block for you." She advised.

"Isn't that rude, Inspector?" Fraser whispered back. Meg gave him an exasperated expression.

"Constable, I've got matters to attend to at the consulate, I simply wish to leave this luncheon without being asked a million questions that aren't anyone's business." She smiled but her low voice had an annoyed growl to it.

"Understood, Sir." Fraser nodded. Meg left for the restroom then ducked out the front door. It was good to be out in the open air, to hear the noise of cars and trucks as they moved past along the street. Birds flew between buildings or landed on traffic posts. Meg stood watching doves flit about when Fraser joined her down the block from the restaurant.

"Would you like me to hail you a cab, Inspector Thatcher?" Fraser volunteered, Diefenbaker catching up from sniffing a fire hydrant.

"How far are we from the consulate?" She asked, shouldering her purse.

"Four blocks." Fraser answered automatically.

"Let's walk back, shall we." Meg took off at a fairly swift clip, her purse bouncing at her side. She was quite a vision in her charcoal skirt and blazer with a maroon blouse, the wind toying with her pixie cut locks. Fraser watched her, enjoying the way she walked with confidence and a self-assured stride, her head held high and her shoulders back. Other men along the sidewalk watched her walk as well, some of them turning as she passed, some smiling as they walked toward their destinations. Meg didn't pay them any mind, watching where she was going or glancing at a shop window as she passed. Ben could have walked all day behind her.

Meg took off toward the consulate to keep her thoughts to herself. She liked the busy, white noise going on around her. The sight of Fraser's reflection in the shop window glass wasn't bad either. Four blocks went by entirely too fast to suit her. The lady Mountie fantasized about walking to a nearby park and sitting in the afternoon sun, Fraser beside her on the wooden bench. They'd talk about something besides the consulate, something inconsequential and he'd lace his fingers with hers and smile slowly as he gazed into her eyes. It was a tame, G-rated fantasy, but it made her happy just the same.

"Good afternoon, Inspector Thatcher, Constable Fraser." Constable Turnbull greeted them, rousing her out of her fantasy. He held a package that had just been delivered and a stack of envelopes.

"Hello, Constable Turnbull." Fraser greeted his fellow officer while Thatcher walked up the consulate steps and through the door her junior officer held open for her.

"I'll have your mail sorted in just a moment, Sir." Turnbull closed the door behind them as Meg walked to her office without responding.

_**TYKTYKTYK **_


	3. Chapter 3 Personal Mail

_**Fifteen Days Later ….**_

With a deep breath, Meg pushed the double doors of Dr. Milton's office open and walked inside. Two couples sat in the small waiting room, the men staring mindlessly at a sports caster on television while the women flipped through old magazines and glanced nervously at their husbands.

"Good morning, Ms. Thatcher." Katie, the receptionist greeted Meg when she signed the clip board lying on the counter surrounded by glass.

"Hello." Meg smiled politely then took a seat in the waiting room. Looking at the clock ticking loudly on the wall opposite the receptionist's desk, the lady Mountie noted that she was over half an hour early for her appointment.

"Great, I hate waiting." Meg thought as she found a fairly recent _Good Housekeeping_ magazine and began flipping through the picture perfect photos of people's homes. They looked fake, staged for the photographer. Meg laid the magazine aside and began rummaging through her purse for her address book. A moment later one of the couples, white man and woman, both in their early forties, were called back. Twenty minutes later the second couple, an African American couple in their mid twenties, were called, leaving Meg alone in the waiting room.

She'd gone through her address book, mentally compiling a list of people to invite to a baby shower, hopefully soon. That thought made her happy. When she got to Fraser's name, Meg paused. How would he take the news that she was trying to have a child? When they'd had that silly misunderstanding about helping her with the adoption process, he'd seemed willing to step in and father her child. Meg wondered if having another man's child would make him think less of her. She held her finger in the F section of the address book for a moment, pondering.

"Ms. Thatcher" Katie called through the sliding glass window. Her voice jerked Meg out of her thoughts and back to the task at hand.

Dr. Milton came into his office carrying Meg's chart, his glasses in the other hand. The Canadian's heart beat like a hummingbird's as she waited anxiously for the results of her tests.

"Hello, Ms. Thatcher, how are you?" Milton asked, his light eyes glassy without his glasses.

"I'm well, thank you." Meg managed to answer without pouncing on the doctor, demanding an answer to the questions she'd been dreaming up for the last two weeks.

"I'm not a fan of small talk, Ms. Thatcher, so I'll get down to business." Milton laid her file on the desk and put his glasses on. Meg's heart went from beating overtime to nearly stopped. His tone didn't sound hopeful.

"I'd appreciate that, Dr. Milton." Meg swallowed and took a deep breath.

"From the tests we ran earlier this month, you aren't the best candidate for in vitro fertilization I've ever seen, the chances of a successful pregnancy are very slim," Meg sat back against the hard chair, the wind knocked out of her.

"But, Ms. Thatcher, they are within acceptable parameters, barely." He stressed the last word as he leaned forward at his desk. All Meg heard was the acceptable part of the sentence. If anyone could overcome a challenge, she knew it would be her.

Milton went on to explain a lot of technical medical stuff that Meg didn't quite understand, despite the last two weeks of discreet, after work research she'd been doing at the Cook County Library.

"I'll have my staff send you a copy of your test results for your files and I'll see you next week." Meg and the doctor shook hands before she left the mundane office. Her heeled feet floated along down the sidewalk as her brain spun.

_**Three Days Later ….**_

"Fraser, I believe Turnbull mixed up our mail." Thatcher said as she walked toward her subordinate officer's open door.

"Yes, I believe so." Benton stood up quickly, a stack of mail in hand. He avoided eye contact, rubbing his eye brow. The longer Inspector Thatcher stood there the more his face reddened.

"Constable Fraser, did you look through this correspondence by chance?" Meg's tone was casual but her heart thundered I her chest. Fraser stood absolutely still, looking at a spot off to her left. He took his time answering.

"Yes, I did, Inspector." The Mountie finally answered, swallowing hard.

"From your reaction I see you found something of a personal nature." Meg sighed. She didn't feel like having this conversation with Fraser, not today.

_ "I might as well tell him now, before the changes start."_ The lady Inspector thought to herself as she stepped across the tiny office and closed the door. After taking a deep breath, and taking a seat across the desk from him, Meg met his eyes squarely. Fraser took his seat, confused but silent.

"Constable Fraser, I've decided to undergo in vitro fertilization, hopefully, within the next few months I'll become pregnant." Meg watched Fraser's eyes widen a fraction and his face go into a neutral mask.

"I thought you should know as it will affect your duties here at the consulate." Meg went into 'Inspector' mode.

"Yes, it shall." Fraser's tone was neutral as he sat very straight in his swivel chair. Meg was dying to know what his opinion on the subject was but dared not ask for fear of his disapproval. She got up from her chair, taking the stack of mail Fraser handed her after he stood up and walked toward the door. He trailed along behind her, reaching around her to open the door.

"Best of luck, Inspector Thatcher." Fraser wished her, his light eyes meeting hers as they stood in close quarters.

"Thank you, Constable Fraser." Meg saw such sincerity in his green eyes. _"If only it were your child instead."_ She thought to herself as she walked out into the hallway.

_**TYKTYKTYK**_

Fraser closed the door behind Inspector Thatcher after she left his office. He took a seat at his desk, a half finished report in the typewriter. Her admission had blown him away. Ben knew she wanted children, he recalled quite well the misunderstanding they'd had when she asked him for his help. The prospect of being a father, even if it were as more of a sperm donor sort of role, had been exciting at the time, terrifying, but exciting.

"Is she that lonely?" Ben wondered as he stared into space toward the filing cabinets lining the opposite wall. He could understand loneliness, he'd felt plenty of it in his life, so much so that it had become almost a companion.

"I should make an effort to be more of a friend to her." The Mountie determined, almost immediately realizing the hurdles ahead of his endeavor.

_**TYKTYKTYK**_


	4. Chapter 4 Meg Phone Home

_**Ray's GTO …. The Next Day ….**_

"Hey, Frase, how do you pronounce the capital of Kentucky, Louis-ville or Loui-ville?" Ray asked, a devilish twinkle in his light blue eyes. He sat eating a Philly cheese steak with French onions and dill pickles as they watched an informant slide into a car with a known pimp suspected of human trafficking.

"I believe most people pronounce the capital city of Kentucky as Frankfort, Ray." Fraser peered through the window intently, trying to read the suspect's lips. He scribbled down the conversation on a small note pad.

"You're no fun, anyone ever tell you that, Fraser?" Ray slurped his large, chocolate milkshake.

"Yes, frequently, Ray." The Mountie responded, leaning even closer to the windshield. "That is a rather old joke, my grandmother told it to me as a child when we lived in Shepherd's Crook." The detective just rolled his eyes as he mopped his mouth with a couple paper napkins.

"How are things between you and the, uh, the 'Iron Maiden' these days?" Ray popped a pickle into his mouth that had fallen onto his t-shirt.

"Is he saying 'shrimp' or 'limp'?" Fraser said softly to himself as he tried to concentrate on the conversation going on over a hundred yards away.

"Hey, Fraser, how are things with Thatcher?" Ray wagged his fingers in front of the spy glass Fraser used.

"Inspector Thatcher has decided to undergo in vitro fertilization." Fraser answered, pushing Ray's hand out of his line of sight. The blond detective began choking on his sandwich.

"Thatcher's gonna have a, whatcha call it, a test tube baby?" He said after taking a drink of his milkshake and clearing his airway.

"That is one term for it." Fraser went back to concentrating on the conversation between the suspect and the pimp.

"So, one day she just up and decides, hey, I'm gonna get preggers?" Ray shook his head. "Why doesn't she do it the old fashioned way?"

"There are a myriad of reasons for Inspector Thatcher to choose IVF." Fraser felt a sinking feeling beginning to settle in the pit of her stomach as they talked.

"It's kinda creepy when you get to thinkin' about it, I mean they take a woman's egg and a guy's sperm and do whatever freaky voodoo they do, and put it back in the chick. The whole thing gives me the shivers." Ray shook his head and wiggled his shoulders.

"Not all women are capable of having children by conventional methods, Ray, without IVF they would be barren." Ben looked at his friend as the pimp slid out of the decked out Monte Carlo and began walking down the street to their rendezvous point. Ray fired the GTO up, setting his sandwich off to one side of the dashboard.

"Hold on, Ray, the suspect just answered their cellular phone." Fraser kept scribbling onto the notebook. The blond detective shut the engine off again, trying to figure out how his Mountie friend saw anything at all from this distance.

"So, what's your opinion on Thatcher doin' this thing, don't you got some kind of warm fuzzies for her?" Ray asked, his mind switching back to their conversation.

"I respect her decision, it isn't an easy task she's chosen to undertake, but I'm certain she's up to the challenge." Ben gave his friend a vague answer. He wasn't entirely sure how he felt about it. Part of him agreed with Ray, why couldn't she have a child the old fashioned way? A small part of the Mountie wished she'd never have set him straight when they'd had the adoption misunderstanding. For the briefest of moments he'd thought she'd cast aside the walls that separated them all too often. It was like a shaft of light in a coal mine, and then it was gone.

"Come on, Fraser, admit it, it kinda pisses you off." Ray pestered, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he watched his friend's reaction.

"No, Ray, there's nothing to be angry with Inspector Thatcher about, I wish her the best of luck." Ben said honestly. It didn't make him angry, it made him sad. Ray wasn't convinced, he saw the way the Mountie looked at the Ice Queen when she wasn't looking. He had a yen for her, even if he didn't know it, or admit it.

"There goes the suspect, Ray." Fraser pointed toward the chrome wheeled car shining in the afternoon sun.

_**The Consulate ….**_

Meg sat at her desk trying to make herself eat a stalk of celery she'd brought to go with tomato soup. No matter how she tried, she'd never liked celery. Cinnamon rolls were tasty though, especially with cream cheese icing.

The lady Mountie gladly put the celery away when the phone rang.

"Inspector Thatcher here." She answered quickly.

"Hey, Nut Meg, how's my girl?" Clara Thatcher's voice rang down the line as she talked to her only daughter.

"Hi, Mom, I'm fine, how are you and Daddy?" Meg's heart paused a second hoping nothing had happened to her parents.

"Ah, we're fine, I hope I'm not interrupting, I just got back from Marlene's house, her grand kids were running around the yard so I left early, seeing them made me think of my girl, so I called you up." It wasn't unusual for Meg's mother to call her up randomly, thankfully, she didn't make a habit out of it.

"No, I'm just eating lunch right now. I do have some news though." Meg steeled herself for her mother's reaction. "I'm going to a have in vitro fertilization, I'm trying to get pregnant." She heard a gasp on the other end of the line.

"Margaret Anne Thatcher, whatever for?" It was a bad thing when Meg's mother used her full name.

"I want to start a family, Mom, I want a child of my own." Meg's voice came out softly, trying to persuade her mother.

"Raising a child without a father, Meg you'll regret it in the long run." Clara Thatcher's voice was stern.

"I'll still be looking, Mom, I just don't want to wait any longer to have a child, if I find the right guy he'll still love me _and_ the baby." Meg reasoned. "Besides, you practically raised me by yourself, I didn't turn out too badly."

"You have to think of what's right for the child above all else, Meg, and a child needs a father, your father spent a lot of time away with the Force, but he was still influential in your life, otherwise you wouldn't have joined the RCMP just like him." Clara Thatcher said calmly but firmly.

"Mom, I know, but I just want a baby of my own so badly." Meg sighed, wishing her mother were more supportive.

"I know, Baby, I wish I could be happy about this for you. I want to see you happy, but I also want what's best for you, sometimes those two things aren't the same." Meg could hear her mother's worry through the phone, her love and concern as well.

"It's something I feel like I have to do." Meg said calmly, her voice free of the tears blurring her vision as she talked.

"I love you, Meg, call me sometime, we'll have a good heart to heart." There was a weakness about the older Thatcher's voice that Meg couldn't miss.

"I love you too, Mom, I'll talk to you later." Meg hung up the phone sadly. She let fished around in her desk drawer for a pack of tissues to dry her eyes before either of her subordinate officers came back from lunch.

"Yes, Diefenbaker, that was summer sausage, but that's not why they call it that." Fraser's voice rolled up the hall and through the open doors of Meg's office. She tossed the last of her tissues in the trash can before he could pass her door.

"Oh, Inspector Thatcher," The Mountie paused just outside her door, torn between going in and continuing toward his office.

"Constable Fraser." Meg nodded then went back to her soup. From the redness of her eyes and the added huskiness to her voice, the Mountie knew something was wrong.

_ "Be more of a friend to her."_ He reminded himself silently. Ben stepped through the door and into her office.

"May I sit for a moment, Sir?" Fraser asked, trying to calm himself. She looked up at him, anxiety clouding her brown eyes.

"Yes, if you wish." Thatcher answered, her spine stiffening. Fraser took a seat in a chair across the desk from her, his gaze sweeping her face then moving on to her lunch still sitting on her desk.

"Is anything the matter, your eyes seem to be irritated." The Mountie began, wishing he could ask the question he actually wanted the answers to.

"I spoke to my mother about my decision, she wasn't very receptive." Meg answered flatly.

"Ah, I see." Fraser nodded, understanding immediately.

"My grandparents weren't supportive of my decision to join the RCMP." Benton volunteered, thinking back to the days of his youth.

"From all accounts your father was a legendary officer, I would think they would have been proud that you wanted to follow in his footsteps." Meg couldn't imagine doing anything else. She couldn't imagine Fraser doing anything else either.

"I don't believe they wanted history to repeat itself." Fraser answered ruefully. His father had been a very solitary man after his mother's death, staying gone for months on end. It was Meg's turn to nod sympathetically.

"I'm certain you've since made them very proud of you." The lady Mountie offered simply.

"I have tried, yes." Benton smiled, feeling at ease with her for the first time since the top of the runaway train. She smiled in return, looking away, her long, dark lashes hiding chocolate brown eyes for a split second. Ben felt like someone had struck him in the gut when she looked up at him again.

The phone ringing in the foyer shattered the spell between the pair. Meg's smile faded. Fraser stood up and jogged toward the desk in the entrance, picking up the handset on the fourth ring. _**TYK**_


	5. Chapter 5 Meg on Call

_**Dr. Milton's Office ….**_

Meg waited in the dull, white waiting room decorated with pastel pink, and sea foam green swirls. A cooking program played on the television in the corner. She pulled out her address book and began compiling the list of baby shower guests she'd started her last appointment. Things around the consulate had kept her from putting it together sooner.

"Ms. Thatcher, you're next." The nurse called Meg back into the exam room. Dr. Milton was washing his hands as she took a seat on the leather covered table.

"Hello, Ms. Thatcher, have you given it any thought as to what we discussed during your last visit?" The doctor used a paper towel to push his glasses up onto his nose.

"Yes, I'm definitely ready to chose a donor, Dr. Milton, I've filled out the paperwork." Meg responded, taking a sheaf of pages out of her briefcase and handing them to the nurse standing in the corner of the tiny room.

"Why don't you and Lisa here go into the consultation room, she'll give you the details and assist." Dr. Milton motioned toward the exam room door.

"This way, Ms. Thatcher." Lisa, a woman just shy of forty, with kind eyes and an easy smile ushered Meg down the hallway.

_**TYKTYKTYK**_

Meg walked out of Milton's office with more confidence than she'd walked out with. Her top five donors were Ivy League graduates from middle class backgrounds. She looked forward to meeting her child, of watching them mature.

As the lady Mountie rode in a cab back to the consulate, she read the real estate ads in the newspaper, hoping to find a two bedroom apartment. Her life was changing and she felt ready for it, ready to see where life took her. It wouldn't all be sunshine and roses, Meg knew that, but she didn't care, she'd blown through adversity before.

By the time Meg had arrived at the consulate her newspaper had a few ads circled to check out later. Right now, she just wanted to sit down with a tuna salad sandwich and apple juice. Turnbull stood absolutely still on sentry duty outside the consulate. Inspector Thatcher walked up the steps with a professional but still pleasant expression on her face.

"Good afternoon, Inspector Thatcher." Fraser's voice rolled down the hallway.

"Hello, Constable Fraser." Meg answered with a pleasant nod as she reached for the door to her office. The Mountie walked briskly down the hallway, catching her there.

"May I inquire as to how your appointment went earlier?" Fraser held open the door for her. Meg met his gaze, turning her head to one side.

"Come in to my office, Fraser." Inspector Thatcher invited him cautiously, wondering where the sudden interest was coming from. She left the door open, leaving it for Fraser to choose whether to close it or not. He left it partially open.

After taking a seat, Meg watched Fraser sit down as well. He was nervous and trying to hide it. Meg couldn't deny, things between them had changed since she'd told him her decision to begin the IVF process.

"How did you know I had an appointment earlier?" Meg wondered, she hadn't told anyone. She wasn't entirely comfortable discussing how she'd spent two hours comparing sperm donors with Fraser.

"You left early but the master schedule was clear." Fraser explained quickly. It was everything he could do not to squirm.

_ "Be a friend to her."_ Ben reminded himself. He took a deep breath and concentrated on the goal he'd set for himself.

"My appointment went well, Constable Fraser, thank you for asking." Thatcher spoke as if talking to Turnbull or the cashier at her favorite deli.

"You've taken a great challenge on, being a single parent, Inspector, I admire your conviction." Ben made himself tell her, watching closely for any disapproval. He remembered how she'd told him of her mother's lack of support. The Mountie could see things from both perspectives; Meg's and her mother's.

Meg's eyes widened and a pleased smile played at the corner of her lips for a moment. Admiration, he admired her for something? As high as Meg had felt walking out of the doctor's office earlier, she soared hearing Fraser say that.

"Thank you kindly, Fraser, I appreciate hearing that." Meg nodded a bit, her eyes shining.

"You're welcome, Sir." The Mountie stood up to take his leave of his commanding officer.

"Good afternoon, Constable." Meg said by way of an unofficial but polite dismissal.

"You as well." Ben wished her before turning to leave. Meg hated that he left but loved watching him go.

_ "Hmm, Fraser admires my conviction does he?"_ The lady Mountie thought to herself with a real satisfied smile playing across her features. _"If he only knew what I admire about him."_ She sighed, pulling her prescription glasses out of her desk drawer.

_**TYKTYKTYK**_

"You'll be on call at the drop of a hat, Ms. Thatcher, it's best to strike when the iron is hot so to speak." Dr. Milton chuckled at his own joke, his gray hair running amok all over his head.

"I understand, Dr. Milton." Meg sounded calmer than she felt. They'd harvested her eggs, a rather uncomfortable procedure for her, but the lady Mountie knew it would be worth it in the long run.

"Let me know immediately if you feel there's been a complication." Milton shook a finger at her, a grandfatherly air about him.

"Yes, immediately." Meg almost squirmed, ready to be out of the exam room. Between the doctor visits and the medication he'd prescribed her, her bank account was taking a hit. Meg couldn't afford to be gone from work any longer than necessary.

"Have a good afternoon, Ms. Thatcher, I'll see you in a day or two." Dr. Milton shook Meg's hand before releasing her.

"Right this way." A nurse ushered Meg down the hall toward the receptionist's desk.

"Good luck." They all wished her with sincere smiles. Meg thanked them then made her way out the door to find a cab in the nippy, fall air.

_**The Consulate ….**_

The smell of something burning pervaded the entrance hall of the consulate as Meg walked in after her appointment. A wisp of gray smoke drifted from the kitchen in the rear. The scent grew stronger as she neared the room. The window above the sink was open and Constable Turnbull was using a cookie sheet to fan the smoke away.

"Good heavens, Turnbull, what have you done?" Fraser's voice cut through the unpleasantly pungent smoke.

"I must have set the oven too high for the cinnamon raisin oatmeal cookies." Turnbull answered, trying to push the smoke out the open window and the open back door. The whole place reeked of burnt cinnamon. Meg choked as she stood in the door way with her hands on her hips.

"Constable Turnbull, do I even have to tell you what disciplinary measures I plan on taking?" Meg asked rhetorically. Her dark eyes blazed with anger and smoke induced tears. Turnbull stood at attention, an apron tied over his uniform and Halloween oven mitts on his hands.

_ "Why do I want a child, I have Turnbull."_ Meg thought to herself, shaking her head.

"Get this place cleaned up, I'll be back to inspect it in an hour." She turned on her heel and briskly walked back toward her office. She heard heavy footsteps behind her so she stopped and turned around, right into Fraser's chest. He stepped backward, steadying her by the shoulders.

"What is it, Constable Fraser?" Meg asked, straightening her suit jacket, a forest green affair with matching satin trim and gold buttons.

"I came to inquire about your appointment." Ben asked softly, so as not to be overheard. Meg met his gaze, blinking quickly for a moment. She nodded toward her office doors before turning away. Fraser followed her into her office where she closed the doors.

"Constable Fraser, I don't see the need for the rest of my staff to know about this process at this juncture, what with the unreliable nature of … things." She took a deep breath before continuing. Fraser taking an interest in her fertility clinic appointments had come as a surprise. Usually something so personal, so _feminine_, would send him running for the exit, the nearest window even.

"I understand, Inspector, I've remained discreet since the letter mix-up." Fraser stood at the corner of the Inspector's desk, his usual spot, his voice low.

"Thank you, Constable Fraser, I appreciate your discretion. Everything is going smoothly." Thatcher answered coolly, she didn't quite know how to proceed. She didn't know if she'd even tell Fraser if something were wrong. The walls of rank, professionalism, perception, and self-preservation kept the lady Mountie locked down tight.

"That's good to hear, Sir." Fraser shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He hadn't managed to find out anything of a personal, friendly nature since he'd started trying to be Thatcher's friend.

"I uh, I should help Turnbull with the kitchen." Fraser volunteered, hoping to be released.

"Yes, he does need a keeper." Meg smiled, rolling her eyes a bit. The corner of Fraser's mouth quirked up into a similar smile. For a moment they were on the same page, and that felt good.

_**TYKTYKTYK**_


	6. Chapter 6 Truths

_**Friday Afternoon- The Consulate Car ….**_

Meg's cell phone screamed from her purse. She found it quickly in her modest, patent leather handbag.

"Hello, Inspector Thatcher speaking." Meg said quickly, holding her breath. A pair of light eyes watched her carefully in the rear view mirror of the long Lincoln.

"Yes, I can be there in twenty minutes, thank you." Meg punched the off button and maneuvered onto the edge of the seat.

"Constable Fraser, turn to go downtown." Thatcher rattled off the directions to Windy City Women's Clinic. Her dark eyes danced as she studied Fraser's for a moment. Quickly, he made the necessary course correction away from the Australian Consulate.

"I assume that was the clinic on the line." Fraser stated as he stopped at a red light.

"Yes, that was doctor Milton's office, the iron is hot." Meg smiled, leaning back against the seat.

"Have you spoken to your mother, recently, Inspector Thatcher?" Fraser broached the subject from the side.

"Yes, she still isn't supportive of my decision but she'll get used to it, especially when my baby is on the way." The lady Mountie crossed her arms over her chest, her gaze a thousand miles away.

"Best of luck, Sir." Fraser wished her genuinely. Part of him was jealous of Meg. In his own way, the lone Mountie wanted children; he wanted a family. As close as he was to Ray and Diefenbaker, nothing would come close to the feeling of holding his own child. Benton wanted to hear someone call him 'Daddy' and to teach them the lessons he'd been taught as a child. Inspector Thatcher would be a good mother, of that Benton was absolutely certain. Tolerating and training Turnbull was proof of that.

"Thank you, Constable Fraser." Meg's voice sounded a little softer than usual as she met his earnest gaze in the rear view mirror for a split second.

"Oh, here we are." She spotted the clinic's large sign along the street.

"What shall I tell the Australian Ambassador?" Fraser asked as he found a parking spot around the corner from the doctor's office.

"Tell Mr. Julian, ah," Meg paused, wondering what to tell the stodgy, old man she was scheduled to meet in twenty minutes. "Tell him I had to go to the doctor, but for Pete's sake, don't tell him the reason. Don't lie, but don't tell him either." All she could do was pray that Fraser didn't spill the beans.

"Understood, Inspector." Fraser nodded, turning the car off to get out and open her door. She'd already thrown the door open by the time he got to the handle. They stood face to face for a moment. Meg adjusted the strap of her purse over her jacket. Fraser could smell her unique scent as a car passed, stirring the air. Standing so close to him, Meg felt small and a bit giddy.

"I'll find a taxi and meet you back at the consulate, Constable."

"I could pick you up if you wish." Fraser offered. He didn't like the idea of Meg going alone.

"If I need you I'll call the Australian Consulate." Meg saw the concern in his eyes but waved it away. Fraser had an overprotective streak, which was nice, but she didn't want to show weakness.

"Yes, do, Inspector, I'll see you at the consulate then." Benton peered at her, a faint crease to his brow.

"Yes, at the consulate." Meg turned before she could stop herself from doing something stupid, like smiling at him or hugging him.

_**Later, at the Consulate ….**_

"How was the luncheon with the Australian Ambassador, Constable Fraser?" Turnbull asked as he walked back through the building toward the kitchen. The junior officer's kitchen privileges had been restricted to coffee and the microwave until Inspector Thatcher decided otherwise.

Fraser sat at his desk, staring at the filing cabinet along the opposite wall. He roused out of his thoughts at the sound of the other Mountie's voice.

"Oh, Constable Turnbull, the luncheon was quite interesting, Ambassador Julian had very informative slides of the Great Barrier Reef." Fraser answered, trying to recall the slides but coming up blank. He'd been uneasy not knowing the Inspector's condition.

"Did Inspector Thatcher enjoy the menu, she usually comes back to the consulate and takes an antacid afterward." The younger officer knew his superior officer's every habit. Anticipation made his job easier, when it worked anyway.

"She was called away before we arrived at the luncheon." Fraser gave the standard answer he'd given throughout the boring affair.

Thankfully, the phone rang before Turnbull could fire off another question. Fraser snatched up the receiver and gave the official greeting. He was halfway through the French section when he heard the Inspector's strained voice on the other end.

"Constable Fraser, take a cab and get over here ASAP." Without explanation, she hung up the phone. Puzzled and more than a little concerned, Fraser laid the receiver back on the cradle and stood up.

"I have to leave, Turnbull, I'll check in before your shift is over, if I haven't returned before then, lock the door." Fraser grabbed his Stetson and woke Dief out of a dream.

"Is everything alright, Sir?" The blond Mountie's eyes widened in concern as he edged toward Fraser.

"Hold down the fort, Constable Turnbull, everything is fine." Fraser sounded more sure than he felt.

_**Windy City Women's Clinic ….**_

"Ms. Thatcher, there's a gentleman here for you." A nurse said softly as Meg sat leaned back on the exam table in a small, cold room.

"Good, Fraser's here." Meg said with a distinct slur as she gathered herself up and tried to find her feet.

"Here, let me help you." The nurse, a woman in her thirties offered Meg a hand as she swayed unsteadily on her feet. The numbing medication they'd given her had sent her for a loop. She'd never taken anything more than an extra strength Tylenol in years. Meg glared at the nurse but let her escort her to the lobby where Fraser stood with his Stetson in his hands.

"Inspector Thatcher, I came as soon as possible." The Mountie studied his superior officer for a moment. She was barely more than a limp dishrag with a sour expression.

"Get me out of here, Fraser." Meg said just at a whisper as she straightened herself, blinking rapidly and taking deep breaths. The nurse handed the Mountie a sheaf of papers before turning them loose.

"The cab is waiting at the curb, Inspector." Fraser offered her his arm for support but she glared at him and walked on ahead through the double doors. She found her way across the sidewalk alright but had to stop and lean on a parking meter for support.

"I think I should go home." Meg ran her fingers through her hair, making it stand up in a hundred different directions.

Fraser nodded in agreement. He wished he'd stayed with her instead of attending the luncheon. Quickly, he helped her into the back of the cab and gave the driver Meg's address.

Inspector Thatcher lived in a moderately pricy neighborhood. The doorman opened the door for them as Fraser half carried her into the marble tiled lobby and toward a gleaming set of gold elevator doors. Her apartment was on the third floor, overlooking the south side of the building.

"I don't know what they gave me, but I haven't felt like this since, well, since I don't know when." Meg handed Fraser her keys after they stepped out of the elevator.

"Which key is it, Inspector?" The Mountie peered down at the six or seven keys on the simple ring in his palm. One of them he recognized as the consulate's front door key, another was to her locking desk drawer and a third to the consulate safe. The remaining four were a mystery.

"Not sure." She slurred, trying to get the hallway to focus correctly. The beige carpet was fading into the sandstone walls around her.

"I'll figure it out." Fraser succeeded in opening the apartment door with the second key he tried. Once inside, the Mountie fumbled for a light switch near the door as he tried to keep Inspector Thatcher upright.

"There's a lamp somewhere." She mumbled as she leaned on the door frame.

"Ah, here we are." Benton found a table lamp on the entertainment center along the wall beside the door. Warm, yellow light created a circle just big enough for him to get his bearings.

"Once I'm on the couch, I'll be fine." Meg lurched forward toward the wall opposite the door. A dark blue, velvet sofa waited with open arms for her. She flopped down and leaned back against the luxurious material. Fraser followed her inside, stepping carefully so as not to find her coffee table with his shins in the dim room. Silently, he knelt down at Meg's feet and took her black pumps off then helped her off with her blazer.

"Fraser, why are you here?" Meg asked as she drew her feet up on the couch and pulled a throw pillow under her head.

"You called and told me to pick you up." He answered quietly, pulling a dark maroon, chenille lap throw from the back of the sofa to drape over her.

"No, I mean why are you taking care of me like this?" She blinked up at him, her dark eyes blurry.

"You need someone to make certain you're alright." He straightened the chenille material down over her dress slacks.

"It isn't your responsibility." She sounded confused as she settled down into the comfortable sofa, the medication making her drowsy.

"As Deputy Liaison Officer, your safety is my responsibility, Ma'am." Fraser sat squatted down on her level, his Stetson still on his head.

"That isn't in the rules, Fraser." Meg snorted softly, yawning.

"It is in my rule book, Inspector." Benton said softly, watching her drift off into medicated oblivion.

Hours later, Meg woke up, her stomach growling and her head feeling much clearer. The lamp on the entertainment center still burned, the only light on in the whole apartment. Looking around, she spied Fraser's form sitting in her arm chair. His Stetson lay on her cherry end table between the sofa and the chair. The Mountie's head lay against the back of the chair, his legs stretched out into the middle of the room. He'd stayed to make sure she was okay.

Slowly, Meg sat up, trying not to wake him. She padded barefoot back through the apartment toward the bathroom. Most of her make-up was gone and there was a crease down her face from lying on the throw pillow's hem. She washed her face and freshened up before going back out into the living room to deal with the sleeping Mountie in her arm chair.

"Constable Fraser, wake up." Meg nudged the toe of his high browns with her bare foot. He jerked awake immediately, popping to his feet.

"Is something the matter, Inspector?" Fraser tried to see her face more clearly in the dim light but her features were shadowed.

"Everything is fine, Constable Fraser, it's time you were headed back to the consulate." Meg turned on the overhead light, flooding the room with white light.

"Yes, Sir." Fraser nodded, finding his Stetson on the end table and planting it firmly on his head.

"Thank you for assisting me this afternoon, Constable Fraser, you're very …. dependable." Meg finished, so many words coming to mind.

"My pleasure, Sir, have a good evening." With a nod, the Mountie found his way toward the front door.

"You as well, Fraser." Meg said before closing the door behind him. For a moment she leaned against the door, thinking back to the sight of Fraser sleeping soundly in her arm chair. It hadn't surprised her to find him sitting there, so peaceful. Part of Meg wondered if things would change between them for the better.

Benton walked down the hallway slowly. His watch read two o'clock in the morning. Watching Meg sleep, he'd had plenty of time to think about the two of them. A niggling, nasty part of him hoped she wouldn't get pregnant. That part of him wanted her to wait until things changed between them enough for a real relationship to grow. The Mountie's heavy boots thumped against the carpet as he strolled toward the elevator. Meg had slept so soundly on the sofa, stirring very little. Her dark hair peeked out above the chenille throw, her toes wiggling as she dreamed. Benton wondered what she dreamed about, wondered if he ever played a part in her dreams. She certainly played a part in his.

When Benton arrived at the consulate Diefenbaker came around from the backyard to his side. The old wolf looked up at him, one brow cocked in annoyance for missing dinner time.

"I'm sorry, old friend, she needed me more than you did." Fraser squatted down on Dief's level. His apology didn't satisfy the lupine.

"Okay, okay, I give in, but just this once, understand." Fraser ruffled the soft fur along Dief's neck before unlocking the consulate door and letting them in.

An hour later Fraser was lying on his cot, staring at the ceiling as Dief snored on his pallet in the corner. The Mountie remembered Meg's question, "Why are you taking care of me like this?" He'd wanted to tell her the truth in his heart and not the truth he told the world.

_"I'm here because I love you, because I want to take care of you for the rest of my life, I never want to leave you."_ Those truths he kept to himself. Not even Dief knew, though the old wolf's keen senses told him there was more than the usual, biological attraction going on between his human and the cranky female.

Somewhere near dawn, Benton fell into a dreamless sleep. It was going to be a long day nto come.

_**TYKTYKTYK**_


	7. Chapter 7 Loss

_**Nine Weeks Later ….**_

Time passed quickly around the Canadian Consulate. Turnbull made sure not to burn anymore dishes. Inspector Thatcher had a follow-up appointment with Dr. Milton; things were going well so far. Fraser kept a close eye on the Inspector, going out of his way to help her whenever she'd let him. That wasn't very much of the time though.

"Constable Fraser, will you send in the expense reports for the last six months?" Thatcher's voice was it's usual, demanding tone over the phone.

"Yes, Sir." The Mountie found the required files in the drawer opposite his desk. An early snow drifted lazily down from a lead gray sky. Diefenbaker stared out of the window at birds flitting around in the bushes nearby. The old wolf sighed as he turned and watched his human leave the room.

"We'll go for a walk during lunch, alright?" Fraser offered his furry friend. The wolf laid down on the carpet and looked up at him.

"You could go out into the back yard you know." That offer received an eye roll. The consulate's back yard was hardly bigger than three parking spots half covered in crab grass.

"Then you'll just have to wait until my lunch hour, sorry." The Mountie's 'sorry' rhymed with 'story' as he shrugged. Turning, he walked out of his office and down the hallway.

"Here are the files you requested, Inspector Thatcher." Fraser stepped inside her office after knocking briefly.

"Thank you, Constable Fraser, Ottawa wants our finalized expense report earlier this year, the fifth of January instead of the fifteenth." Meg grumbled. She had a dozen open files spread across her desk.

"Why the ten day difference do you think?" Fraser watched Meg for a moment, noting her pale features and tired air. She'd been different for the last few days, more sedentary.

"Who knows, they give me a deadline and I give them what they want." She shrugged, looking up at her junior officer. His usual, professional mask didn't cover his concern when their eyes met.

"Thank you, Constable Fraser." Meg said by way of dismissal. She didn't want him hovering around her office when she felt like road kill.

"You're welcome." Fraser stood for a long moment before turning and leaving her alone to put together the expense report.

_**Lunch Hour ….**_

"Come on Dief, shall we take a walk, I'm going to the bakery down the street." The white wolf popped to his paws like an eager puppy.

"I thought you'd be ready to leave." Fraser slipped into his RCMP issue, navy pea coat and adjusted his Stetson. Strolling down the hallway, he stopped by Turnbull's reception desk.

"Constable Turnbull, I'll be on lunch should you need me." Fraser informed him more from courtesy than from duty or regulation. The blond Mountie looked up from mailing list he was using to send calenders with Canadian National monuments to other consulates in the United States.

"The temperature has dropped, Sir, the sidewalks are quite dangerous." Turnbull informed him cheerfully.

"Yes, thank you kindly, Turnbull." Fraser left the consulate.

A stiff wind from the north blew against his cheeks as he and the wolf walked the two blocks to the bakery on the corner. They sold a dozen variety of cookies. Fraser's favorite was maple tarts. The owner, Lola Crabtree, had brought the recipe to Chicago with her from her native Alberta, Canada. She always gave Fraser extra cookies, refusing to take the money he tried to pay her. Lola said she did it because Fraser reminded her of home. She also always gave Dief a meaty dog treat. It wasn't as good as a raspberry cheesecake cookie but the wolf was grateful anyway. He liked the attention.

"Hello, Lola, how are you today?" Fraser greeted the petite woman in her fifties. She wore a red scarf over her graying red hair and an apron over her Maple Leaf's sweatshirt and jeans.

"Hey, Constable Fraser, I'm fine. I've got a new recipe, care to be my taste tester?" Her features spoke of a woman who was enjoying her life, aging gracefully as she worked in her shop and tended to her youngest son, Drew.

"I'd be honored, Lola, thank you kindly." Fraser stood looking around the moderately large shop, display cases of cakes, cookies, and cupcakes stood around the right side and a few tables and chairs sat off to the left. Black and white checkerboard tiles gave the shop a clean, classic feel.

Lola took a paper napkin and snagged a large, chocolate cookie from a wax paper covered tray. It was rather lumpy but smelled delicious. Fraser bit into it carefully, trying not to let crumbs spill onto the floor.

"Hmm, this is good, Lola, what is it?" He tasted peanut butter, oats, and coca.

"Chocolate and peanut butter no bake cookies." Lola smiled at him over the display case, gauging his reaction.

"They're delightful, I'll take a dozen if you have them, and a half dozen maple tarts please." The Mountie took off his Stetson and pulled out a twenty dollar bill. Lola counted out the cookies and put them in a box for him.

"What do I owe you, Lola?" Fraser held out the twenty.

"Nope, your money's no good here, Constable, call it a Christmas present." Lola held up her hands, instead pushing the box toward the Mountie.

"I couldn't possibly, Lola, ingredients are costly." Fraser protested.

"I'm not on the street starving, Fraser, I think I can give you a few cookies if I want to." Lola crossed her arms over her chest and pasted on a determined expression.

"I'm grateful, Lola, thank you kindly." The Mountie put the twenty in a Mason jar sitting on the counter collecting for the Salvation Army Christmas programs.

"Come on, Dief, we should be getting back to the consulate." Fraser tipped his Stetson to the bakery owner before leaving the shop. She watched him walk down the sidewalk, his Stetson visible in the crowd.

Back at the consulate, Turnbull smelled the cookies as soon as Fraser walked through the door. His light blue eyes sparkled like a child's.

"You've been to Lola's bakery, Constable Fraser. She makes the best sugar cookies." Turnbull licked his lips thinking of sugar cookies with strawberry icing and sprinkles.

"Yes, would you like some maple tarts, or Lola's new recipe, chocolate peanut butter no bake cookies?" Fraser offered generously, setting the large, white box on the corner of the reception desk.

"Yes, thank you, I'll just prepare a pot of tea to go with them." The junior Mountie rushed to the kitchen. Fraser knocked on Inspector Thatcher's door, listening for her to grant him access. Nothing stirred in the office so he knocked again, this time louder. Silence again.

"Inspector, are you alright?" Fraser opened the door and looked around the office. The files he'd put on her desk were scattered and the desk chair was pushed too far away from the desk.

"Fraser?" Inspector Thatcher's voice sounded muffled. He rounded the desk to see her lying on the floor, blood blanching on her dress slacks. She was trying to get up but fumbled.

"Stay still, Inspector, I'm calling an ambulance." Fraser picked up the phone and dialed 9-1-1.

"I don't know what happened, I felt dizzy then ..." Meg's voice trailed off. Fraser kept one eye on her as he calmly gave the dispatcher all the information she asked for.

"Inspector, the ambulance is en route, stay with me." Benton took her hand, pinning the telephone between his jaw and shoulder as he took her pulse. Meg's dark eyes fluttered a second before she could focus on Fraser's worried face.

"Fraser, I think my baby's gone." She pulled her hand away from his and laid it on her stomach.

"I'm afraid so, Inspector." Fraser hated seeing her lying there, her dream gone and her life hanging by a thread.

_**The Hospital Emergency Room ….**_

Ray found his way to the waiting room where Fraser stood looking out the window at the parking lot beyond. An inch of snow had fallen over the course of the day.

"Hey, Fraser, I heard the call over the radio, what's up?" The blond detective's light eyes were wide with fear and confusion.

"Inspector Thatcher." Was the Mountie's only answer.

"What's up with uh, with the 'Ice Queen' ?" Ray crossed against the pastel painted walls to stand near his friend. Fraser turned to look at him reproachfully for a moment.

"Sorry." Ray shrugged, running his hand over his jaw.

"I'm not at liberty to discuss the Inspector's condition, Ray." Fraser's voice was devoid of emotion.

"Come on, Fraser, buddy, you look like you lost your best friend, you need to talk, I can listen. Like uh, like church concession, er whatever." Ray talked with his right hand, the left on his lean hip as he spoke.

"You mean 'confession', Ray." Fraser corrected. He thought for a moment. Ray was undercover so he knew how to keep a secret.

"Perhaps you're right." Fraser sighed, running his left thumb nail over his eyebrow. "The Inspector has recently begun undergoing the in vitro fertilization process. This afternoon she miscarried."

"Thatcher wants a test tube baby, why, can't she do it the old fashioned way?" Ray squirmed in his coat at the thoughts of it all.

"That isn't the issue, Ray. Inspector Thatcher nearly bled to death in her office." Fraser's low tone grew a fraction louder.

"Sheesh, that's awful, she's gonna be alright though?" Ray asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Yes, with a blood transfusion and bed rest. I'm concerned for her." Fraser straightened up.

"Constable Fraser?" A woman's questioning voice broke into the conversation.

"Yes?" Fraser turned on his heel to see a young nurse standing in the doorway of the waiting room.

"Inspector Thatcher's asking for you, come this way please." She spoke softly, her blonde hair French braided away from her girl-next-door features. Fraser found his Stetson and followed her toward the emergency room.

Meg lay on a hospital bed, a blanket over her feet and a gown on. One hand lay on her lap, an IV taped down across the back. She looked pale and fragile lying in the bed propped up, her eyes closed.

"Inspector Thatcher?" Fraser spoke quietly but enough to rouse her. Meg's dark eyes opened slowly, her long lashes like black lace against her alabaster skin.

"Constable Fraser, the doctors say I'll be here a few days, you'll need to finish the expense report. I was scheduled to attend a dinner party tomorrow night, will you call and tell them I won't be attending?" Meg tried to remember what else it was she'd meant to tell Fraser but couldn't, her brain felt foggy from loss of blood.

"Don't worry, Inspector, I'll attend to everything in your absence." The Mountie spoke quietly, fighting the urge to take her hand and press a kiss against her forehead. Meg seemed so small, much smaller than usual.

"Thank you, Constable Fraser." Thatcher reached out to touch his arm but pulled away at the last second.

"You're welcome, Inspector, any time." She saw a warmth in his eyes she'd never seen before. Fraser's face could be masked, but his eyes betrayed him every time.

"Inspector Thatcher, we have a few more tests we'd like to run." A business faced man in his forties spoke before opening the curtain surrounding the exam room.

"I'm afraid you'll have to excuse us." He turned to Fraser.

"Yes, I'll be in the waiting room." Fraser looked to Meg for permission to leave. She nodded almost imperceptive.

"So, how's Thatcher?" Ray asked as Fraser exited the emergency room.

"Inspector Thatcher is doing better, they are currently running additional tests, she'll be in the hospital a few days." Fraser informed his unofficial partner.

"You need a ride back to the consulate?" The detective offered, pulling out the keys to his classic GTO.

"No, thank you, I believe I'll stay until after they've admitted Inspector Thatcher, thank you though." Fraser frowned for a minute before his expression went back to it's usual passivity.

"Call me if you need me, buddy." Ray slapped Fraser on the back before he left the hospital.

_**Four Hours Later … **_

"Constable Fraser, she's asking for you again." The blonde nurse spoke from the doorway again.

"Thank you kindly, Miss." Fraser didn't even see the flirty smile the nurse gave him, he just went on back to the exam room.

"Constable Fraser," Meg made the head of the bed raise her to a sitting position.

"Yes, Sir." He opened the curtains and stepped inside the white cocoon.

"Why are you still at the hospital?" She asked, puzzled. Between IV fluids and blood, the Inspector was beginning to feel better but sadder.

"I wanted to make certain you didn't need anything before I left for the consulate." Fraser wasn't being exactly truthful. He wanted to stay with her until visiting hours were over, to hold her hand and listen if she needed to talk.

"I'm fine, Constable Fraser, there's an adequately trained staff of doctors and nurses to see to my needs." The 'Inspector' tone was creeping in to her voice.

"Yes, Inspector, I understand." Fraser wanted to protest but knew it would only upset her and that wouldn't be good for her vulnerable health.

"Dismissed, Constable." Meg found herself saying those words out of habit.

"Call should you need anything, Inspector." With that the Mountie left the exam room and walked slowly toward the exit. Every nurse along his path watched Fraser walk past. He didn't notice any of them.

_**TYKTYKTYK **_


	8. Chapter 8 Margaret

_**Four Days Later ….**_

"I'm quite capable of taking myself up to my apartment, there's no need to hover, Constable Fraser, Detective." Meg protested as the two men flanked her on either side, Fraser holding her belongings in a large, plastic bag. Even Diefenbaker had insisted on getting out into the crisp, Chicago morning to pick her up from the hospital.

"I'm certain you are, Inspector." Fraser agreed with her but didn't slow down for an instant as she struggled to walk ahead of him toward the door.

"You aren't relenting are you, Fraser?" Meg groused as she fumbled for her keys in her purse.

"No, Sir, I'm not, my apologies." The Mountie ducked his head for a moment. Meg rolled her eyes and let them into the building. The trio of humans and the white wolf crowded into the elevator and Meg hit the floor button.

"I assume since you're here you know what transpired." Meg turned to Ray who met Fraser's eyes, asking him for a translation.

"Yes, Sir, Ray knows about the miscarriage, but he's assured me of his absolute discretion." Fraser reassured the boss lady.

"Yeah, mums the word, promise." Ray pretended to zip his lips but there was a devilish twinkle to his crystalline blue eyes. Meg simply glared at him.

Once in the hallway outside the Inspector's apartment, she pulled her keys from her purse and let them inside. Ray balked, as did Diefenbaker. The wolf had been shooed out of her office often enough to know better than enter a room that smelled this strongly of her.

"Uh, Fraser, I got stuff to do back at the precinct, you don't mind walking back do you?" Ray said as he stood inside the doorway. Diefenbaker looked up at his human and whined.

_"Can I go with Ray, please?"_ He seemed to beg.

"Yes, of course, Ray, that's fine. Would you mind taking Dief for me?" Fraser asked as he helped Meg ease onto the couch.

"You got it, buddy, I'll see you later." Ray agreed eagerly.

"Thank you kindly, Ray." The Mountie nodded as he took the boss lady's purse and set it on the coffee table. Ray closed the door and walked down the hall towards the elevators.

"Constable Fraser, you don't have to stay, there are a multitude of things at the consulate to occupy your time." Meg pointed out just shy of an order. If she'd admit it, she didn't want to be alone just yet.

"Turnbull and I completed the expense reports, I attended the dinner party in your stead and the consulate schedule is clear until Monday. I am completely at your disposal." Fraser offered with a brief, satisfied smile.

"How very efficient of you, Constable." Meg's tone was slightly acidic.

_"I simply wanted to be helpful." _Ben thought to himself as he stood at the side of the sofa in his usual, parade rest stance.

"Is there anything you'd like before I leave, Inspector?" Fraser offered, looking around the dark apartment.

"No, I'm not an invalid." Meg snapped as she slid her shoes off and pulled her feet beneath her like a cat does their tail. She saw the frustration flash in Fraser's eyes before he looked away.

"Understood, Sir." Fraser straightened a fraction, if possible. "I'll leave you now." The Mountie adjusted his Stetson and turned to walk out the front door.

"Fraser, stop." Meg barked, wincing at the harsh sound of her own voice. He stopped in his tracks, pausing a second before turning around. Meg took a deep breath.

"I shouldn't have been so... nettlesome, with you. I appreciate your concern for my well being." It was as close to an apology Meg could make herself say.

"You're quite welcome, Sir." Fraser stepped closer to the sofa.

"Would you like some tea, coffee perhaps?" The lady Mountie pulled her feet out from beneath her and started to get up.

"Thank you kindly, but allow me to make it." Fraser motioned for her to stay seated.

"Alright." She looked up at him with a flash of annoyance but didn't fuss.

"Cups and saucers are in the cabinet opposite the stove and the tea is above the stove hood, near the back." Meg directed him from her seat a few yards from the stove.

Benton walked into one of the tidiest kitchens he'd ever seen. There weren't any dirty dishes in the sink. The cabinets also looked alphabetized. An old fashioned, stainless steel tea pot sat on the stove, waiting for tea.

"There are some vanilla wafers in the cabinet as well if you'd like." Meg added, hearing the sounds of water running then cups and saucers being set carefully on a tray.

"Ah, so there is, thank you." Fraser leaned out of the kitchen door way to peer into the living room. Meg had turned on the table lamp on the end table where she sat and was scanning through her mail.

"It is difficult to find a good bakery this far south." She tore up the junk mail and stored the bills in the drawer of the end table.

"Lola Crabtree owns a bakery two blocks from the consulate, she has the most delightful maple tarts. Her mother gave her the recipe before she moved from Alberta. I bought a dozen of them the day you were …." Fraser's voice trailed off and he busied himself gathering tea and a bowl for the vanilla wafers.

"The day I miscarried." Meg finished for him. Without thinking she laid a hand on her stomach, over her now empty womb. Her heart ached at the thought.

"Yes." Fraser said low as he walked carefully into the living room carrying a tray.

"I would have bled to death if you hadn't found me." Meg crossed her arms over her chest, rubbing her arms as if she felt a chill.

"Perhaps." Fraser agreed weakly, out of his depth. A few minutes later the water had boiled and the Mountie had set the tea bags to seep. He brought the tray of tea things into the living room and sat down. He then handed Meg her cup and saucer to fill the silence between them.

"I didn't thank you properly for what you've done." Meg watched the Mountie lay some of the wafers on the side of his saucer, avoiding her gaze.

"No thanks are necessary, Inspector Thatcher." He met her eyes for a moment before concentrating on his tea cup again.

"I do have a first name, I don't believe it would be against regulations for you to use it, off-duty." Meg stopped before she called him by rank. The look on Fraser's face was priceless, just as it had been the evening she'd used his first name as part of the rouse to get away from Henri Cloutier.

"Ma'am?" Benton blinked a few times as he studied her features.

"It's just a name, Fraser, it doesn't show a lack of respect to call me 'Margaret' or 'Meg' when not at the consulate." She felt her heart beating faster, anticipating the sound of her name in Fraser's voice.

"Yes, I know, it's just that, well, calling you by your Christian name seems so … personal." Benton scrambled for words. He'd wanted to call her by name for so long, wanted to do so many other things that their respective ranks barred him from doing.

"Fraser, I believe recent events have given you personal knowledge of me unknown to anyone, save Detective Vecchio." She held his gaze, silently hoping that he would see her offer for what it was; an attempt to show her appreciation.

"Margaret, it is a beautiful name." A smile twitched the corners of Fraser's lips as he met her gaze.

"At least someone thinks so." She felt a smile pulling at her own lips. They both took a sip of tea to hide smiles. An awkward silence fell between them, each sipping tea quietly in the dim room.

"Have you spoken to your parents, Insp, um, Margaret, your mother called yesterday." Fraser finally spoke.

"No, I haven't, Mom isn't exactly supportive of my decision and Dad won't speak of it whatsoever. I don't want to give them anything else to say _'I told you so'_, about." Meg's dark tone spoke volumes. Ben could hear pain and anger in her voice.

"Parents don't always realize the effect their words have on children." He felt so old. His father had spoken very little to him while he was alive and often what Bob Fraser said as a ghost left Ben hurting and confused.

"I can see where my mother is coming from, it is better for both the child and parents if you're married." But what if you never found someone to have a child with?

"I'm certain that she can see things from your perspective as well." Fraser offered, trying to be supportive.

"Maybe it's best that the baby didn't make it, perhaps it was a blessing in disguise, for both of us." Meg sighed, staring at the wall across the room. Benton set his cup and saucer down. He had seen her angry, annoyed, flustered and amorous, but never dark like this. The pain of losing the baby was worse than Ben had anticipated.

"Margaret, any child would be blessed to have you for a mother." He took her hand from the cushion separating them on the sofa. His light eyes searched her face but saw only loss and emptiness.

"I don't know, Fraser. If my biological clock ticks much louder I'm going to scream, I'm running out of time." Meg turned to him, tears lining her soft brown eyes.

"Becoming pregnant isn't your only option, don't give up." Ben squeezed her fingers tightly for a moment. Meg met his gaze, sincerity shining in his features.

"Maybe." Meg pulled her hand away and stared at the wall. Optimism wasn't one of the many things she felt just then.

"I should let you rest now, it's been an eventful few days." Fraser gathered up their empty tea cups and saucers on the tray and set them by the kitchen sink.

"Yes, it has." The lady Mountie folded in on herself as she sat on the sofa in the dim light of a forty watt bulb.

"Call if you need anything, Inspector Thatcher." Fraser stood near the front door, his Stetson in hand. When she didn't acknowledge him the Mountie opened the front door to leave.

"Fraser," She called suddenly before he could close the door.

"Yes?" He popped his head back into the apartment.

"Thank you." Her voice was soft and a little weak.

"You are most welcome, Margaret." Ben left her with a smile.

_**TYKTYKTYKTYK **_


	9. Chapter 9 Back on Track

_**Two Months Later ….**_

After healing, both mentally and physically, Meg decided to go back to Dr. Milton's office to try again. The weather had gone from pleasantly spring to sweltering summer. An occasional breeze off the lake kept the city from melting into a puddle.

"Fraser, I've got an appointment at Dr. Milton's downtown, afterward I'll be taking the afternoon off." Meg spoke low after knocking on his office door. The Mountie had popped up as if on a spring board.

"Yes, Sir, are there any further instructions?" Fraser asked as he stood at attention behind his desk, his face impassive. Indecision crossed Meg's face before she could stifle it.

"No, I'll call if I think of something." The Inspector adjusted the hem of her dark lavender blazer and turned to leave.

"May I ask a personal question, Inspector?" Fraser's heart beat like a jackhammer as he anticipated Meg's response. She lifted a brow curiously.

"Go on, Constable Fraser." Meg said slowly. She watched him take a deep breath, obviously working up the nerve for whatever he planned to say.

"Are you certain you wish to continue the in vitro process after, ah, after recent events?" He met Meg's gaze, concern creeping into his green eyes.

"Yes, Fraser, I do." The lady Mountie had anticipated this question. She'd been asking herself the same thing since the miscarriage. For a moment she wondered what his thoughts of her were. Fraser had admitted admiring her but did he still feel that way or had he hoped it would be a failure?

"Have you got something on your mind, Constable Fraser?" Meg asked stiffly. The Mountie studied her for a moment before answering, his face unreadable.

"No, Inspector, I do not." Fraser had a million things on his mind, foremost finding her nearly unconscious and bleeding behind her desk.

_"As if you'd say it if you did."_ Meg thought, new resolve filling her.

"I should be going." The Inspector spoke crisply before turning and leaving her subordinate officer's small office.

_**After Work …**_

Ray Kowalski, currently known as Vecchio, waltzed through the consulate's main hallway toward his friend's home/office. The GTO sat outside, shining like a dark jewel, as usual. The lanky, blond detective from the Twenty-seventh Precinct whistled as he neared the Mountie's door.

"Come in, Ray, I'll be ready in a moment." Fraser's voice met his ears. Ray found the misplaced Canadian tying his boot laces, his jeans pulled up above the buff colored footwear.

"Dief comin with us?" Ray leaned against the door frame, his light blue eyes scanning the small space. He still marveled at how Fraser lived in such a coffin sized room.

"Yes, I believe he's anxious to beg a hotdog from the vendor at the park." Fraser adjusted his pant leg before standing up.

"I've never been to one of these precinct shindigs, what's the deal?" Ray asked, crossing his arms over his red Bulls t-shirt.

"The precinct's staff gather to socialize with fellow officers and their families. Lieutenant Welsh usually mans the barbecue grill. It's quite pleasant actually." Fraser took his Stetson off the peg where he kept it and set it firmly on his head.

"Frannie's been cookin' all day for this." Ray didn't sound overly excited about going to the annual gathering.

"Lasagna or potato salad?" Fraser asked, hoping for German potato salad.

"Both." Ray began walking toward the front door as Fraser closed his office door. Walking by the Inspector's office the detective wondered about her.

"How's Thatcher doin' these days?" He paused to let Fraser catch up.

"The Inspector has decided to attempt the IVF process once more."

Ray noticed the usually neutral expression on Fraser's face was one of concern instead.

"Sheesh, nearly bleedin' to death wasn't lesson enough?" Ray quipped sarcastically.

"It's nearly impossible to dissuade Inspector Thatcher once she's decided on a course of action." Fraser put it mildly. Meg Thatcher was one of the most stubborn people he'd ever encountered, not counting his father.

"Women, can't live with 'em, can't shoot 'em." Ray snickered as he waited on the consulate steps for Fraser to lock the front door.

"Without women the human species would die out in little over half a century, as it would without the male of our species." Fraser went into 'Professor' mode. Ray tuned him out mostly.

"What's your take on all this anyway, I know you said you wish her luck and all that jazz, but aren't you worried Thatcher might get burnt doin' this? What if she has some psycho, serial killer's kid 'er somethin'" Both men slid into black gem of an American muscle car, Dief taking his usual spot in the backseat. He peered out the front window, his muzzle between the humans.

"Ray, that's absurd, there are guidelines that much be adhered to in order for someone to become a donor." Fraser answered, a note of irritability in his voice. The car pulled smoothly into the flow of heavy traffic.

"And you know this how, Fraser? You been a sperm donor before?" Ray snickered as he flew through an intersection on a yellow light.

"No, Ray, I have however, researched the process quite thoroughly. The process for humans is quite similar to that which farmers use to produce the best breed of stock." Again, the Mountie went into 'Professor' mode.

"Yeah, I don't wanna know about that weird, science crap." The detective shivered. It all reminded him of the fetal pigs his ninth grade science teacher had put on display during biology.

"It's a natural part of the life cycle, Ray, there's nothing weird about it."

"It's weird, that's all I'm sayin'." The detective wagged his index finger at his friend.

"Actually, I'm more concerned about the Inspector's health, she's not as sturdy as she'd like others to believe." Fraser frowned as he stared straight ahead, talking with his hands.

_"Especially me."_ He thought sadly. Benton wouldn't have thought any less of her if she'd asked for help or showed weakness. He'd felt weak often enough himself.

"Maybe she's like one of them kids that has to, you know, touch the stove to find out it's actually hot." Ray shrugged as he cruised down the street, looking sideways at a white, 1953 Chevrolet Corvette parked along the street, fully restored, the top down.

"Perhaps." Fraser agreed mildly.

Ray saw the concern on his friend's face. He didn't usually say this much about what was going on with Thatcher. The detective figured the situation must really be weighing on the Mountie's mind. Ray didn't feel like the person to be giving relationship advice so he said nothing. His ex-wife, Stella, was living proof that Ray wasn't good with women.

_**After Hours ….**_

Fraser took a deep breath before knocking on Meg's apartment door. He tapped lightly at first.

"Just a moment." The off duty, lady Mountie called from somewhere deep within her quarters. When she answered the door she wore a pair of baggy jogging pants and a loose, red RCMP t-shirt. Her make-up had been washed away and her short hair looked like she'd raked her fingers through it.

"Fraser, good afternoon, I'm surprised to see you." She stepped aside to let him enter. Quickly, Meg looked around her living room, hoping she hadn't left anything out of place.

"I came to make certain you were alright, after your appointment." Ben shut the door behind him and stood on the door mat, not daring to venture into her house.

"I'm fine, thank you for coming. It was just a few tests, more of a consultation really." Meg laid her hand over the bend of her left arm to hide the bandage where they'd drawn blood.

Ben wondered if he should leave. Meg stood in the center of the room, her feet bare, looking anywhere but at him. A long, awkward pause stretched out between them.

"Have you eaten, Constable Fraser? I was just about to fix something for dinner." Meg finally spoke, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I couldn't possibly, Ray and I went to the precinct picnic this afternoon. Several of the women brought covered dishes they insisted I try." The Mountie had a constitution of a an ox, but he needed one of a pig to eat all the barbecue cocktail wieners and cherry cheesecakes that had been brought especially for him. That had been four hours before and he still felt a little green around the gills.

Meg's lips quirked, dying to smile. She could only imagine the women flocking around Fraser, their blouses pulled down to the wherefore, plates in hand. He had probably blushed all afternoon.

"Where's your wolf, he usually accompanies you everywhere?" Meg asked to keep from laughing.

"He has an upset stomach, too many hotdogs." Fraser answered, still standing on the door mat.

"Tea then?" Meg offered, walking into the kitchen to Fraser's right.

"Yes, thank you, Inspector." Fraser watched her pull down a canister of tea from the cabinet next to the stove before filling a tea pot. She moved with fluid grace. He couldn't help but gaze at her; so unguarded in her own kingdom.

"We're off-duty, Fraser, I'm not an Inspector." She reminded him, lips pursed but amusement in her eyes.

"Yes, we are, Margaret." Ben amended, feeling out of sorts.

"Have a seat, I'll bring your tea out when it's ready." Meg pointed toward the sofa beyond the bar separating the kitchen and living room. Fraser nodded.

Lying on the coffee table Fraser saw the real estate pages out of several newspapers. Some of the ads were circled and others were crossed out.

_"She's looking for a two bedroom apartment."_ Fraser surmised, picking up one of the pages.

"I've narrowed it down to four possibilities." Meg's voice startled Benton. She set down a mug of tea and laid sugar packets on the coffee table.

"I see you have already made several inquiries." He pointed toward some of the crossed out ads.

"Yes, I suppose I'm being picky, but I want to move into a secure neighborhood." Meg's hand fluttered over her flat abdomen.

"I disagree, raising a child in a secure environment is important." Fraser agreed quickly, noting the pricy neighborhoods the remaining ads were located.

"I'm almost glad I'm not a field officer anymore." The lady Mountie stood up to return to the kitchen where she poured chicken flavored Raman noodles into a bowl, she added crushed saltine crackers and yellow mustard. When she sat down again she saw the suspicious look Fraser gave her comfort food. She sat on one end of the couch, bare feet tucked beneath her as she leaned on the arm.

"What?" Meg asked, eying him.

"Oh, nothing, Margaret." Ben went back to his usual, impassive mask.

"It crossed your mind, you might as well say it, Fraser." She pushed him, lifting out a small spoon full of the odd concoction.

"I've heard that women have unusual cravings during pregnancy, but you aren't expecting yet." A mischievous twinkle shone in his light eyes.

"This from the man who sniffs and licks crime scene evidence off dead bodies." Meg huffed in playful shock.

"It isn't as if I do so on purpose." Ben huffed back, a smile toying with the corners of his mouth.

"You do so, Detective Vecchio, ah, the other Ray, complains about it constantly." Meg uncurled one leg and shoved Fraser's jeans clad knee with her foot.

"He does at that. I still do not do it to be unpleasant though." Ben met her gaze, Meg's leg still stretched out across the couch between them. Gently, he laid one hand over her foot. From heel to toe, it hardly measured longer than his his hand.

"How do you stand smelling all those disgusting things anyway?" Meg asked, slowly eating her noodles.

"Practice I suppose, and I did spend several days hiding in an elk carcass, the stench was hallucinogenic." Absently, Ben began rubbing Meg's foot, his strong hands feeling delightful as he told the story behind the elk carcass.

"Ah, Fraser," Meg hated to but she couldn't let him go on massaging her feet or she'd end up doing something silly, like curl up in his lap like a kitten.

"Yes, Margaret?" His brows lifted inquisitively.

"My foot." She pointed with her soup spoon.

"Oh dear, my apologies." He yanked his hands away from her foot, crossing his arms over his chest. Ben's face reddened as he stared straight ahead.

"I should be on my way now, Diefenbaker may need to have an extra walk around the block before the night is through." Fraser stood up and found his Stetson. He thought to himself, _"How could I cross the line like that?" _It had happened and part of the Mountie wished it would happen again.

"I'll see you at the consulate tomorrow morning." Meg went back to her professional demeanor.

"Good evening, Ins, I mean, Margaret." Ben nodded as he opened the door to let himself out.

"Good evening, Fraser." Meg wished him. _"Sleep well, Ben."_ She whispered once the door had closed firmly.

"You as well, Meg." He whispered back, his keen ears a blessing for a change.

_**TYKTYKTYK**_


	10. Chapter 10 Friends and Jealousies

_**First Thing the Next Morning ….**_

Fraser sipped his breakfast tea slowly, surveying a list of guests for the annual Canada Day celebration Inspector Thatcher had been planning for the last two weeks. He stood leaned over the work table in the kitchen. Thatcher had her bottom of the ladder subordinate, Constable Turnbull, polishing everything in the consulate. Her next subordinate, Fraser, was relegated to dealing with the catering and serving staff. One of the catering companies had refused to return to the consulate as long as Turnbull was there. It seems he and the chef had had a disagreement about how best to serve soufflé. Fraser was deemed more tactful.

"Constable Fraser?" Inspector Thatcher's voice rang out through the first floor of the consulate.

"Yes, Inspector?" Fraser stepped out into the hallway from the kitchen.

"How is the guest list coming?" She walked confidently toward him, a navy suit on with a deep orange blouse beneath it, her pearls lying against her collar bones.

"Quite well, Sir, I've almost finished addressing the entire list." He answered, standing at parade rest.

"While Turnbull is on sentry duty, I had hoped to speak to you, privately." She peered up at him, a meaningful expression in her eyes.

"Certainly, Sir, lead the way." Fraser gestured graciously for her to go into his office only steps away. Meg turned on her heel and quickly walked toward her junior officer's home/office.

Once inside, she closed the door behind them, taking a calming breath before speaking. Fraser stood waiting, curious as to all the secrecy.

"Fraser, I know we spoke last night but I neglected to tell you that I'll be on call again after my next appointment. Hopefully this time the procedure is successful." Meg stood absolutely still as she spoke. There wasn't enough room to pace like she'd prefer.

"Are there any special instructions, Sir?" The Mountie asked passively.

"No, I just thought it prudent to inform you as it will affect your duties when the occasion arises." Meg spoke crisply, as if she hadn't been thinking of the way Fraser massaged her foot the night before as she went about her morning routine. She wished he'd do that on a full-body scale someday.

"Understood, Sir, if I may, best of luck."

Meg noticed the way his light eyes went a bit colder as he wished her good luck. Perhaps it was her imagination?

_"Be a friend to her, Ben, show her you can be supportive."_ Fraser thought to himself as he met Meg's gaze for a long moment. Part of him still hoped it would be unsuccessful. Another part of him knew how much pain that would cause her.

"Have you given any consideration to the name of your child yet, Sir?" He asked, rushing to fill the silence stretching between them.

"Of course, Fraser, I'm not going to call it 'Baby Thatcher' forever." Meg said before she thought how it sounded. Ben ducked his head.

"I've put together a list of thoroughly considered names. I wouldn't want to give my child a name that others could use to make fun." She said ruefully, remembering the teasing she took as a teen.

"Yes, some names can be quite unfortunate." His expression was neutral but his eyes were cloudy.

"I have work to finish." Meg turned and left the small office.

"Hello?" A man's voice carried through the consulate from the front door. Meg walked briskly out of the kitchen to meet the visitor.

"I have a package for Inspector Margaret Thatcher." The UPS delivery man's smile made Meg's expression go sour.

"Inspector Thatcher here." She walked up to him and took the clipboard he held out for her. The delivery man held a large box. _Maternity Chic_, in regal letters covered the box's sides.

"Set it in the office there." Meg pointed to her office door as she quickly signed the clipboard. Usually women were happy when they received packages. The delivery guy had never met Inspector Thatcher.

"Thank you." She said, handing him back the signature sheet.

"Have a good day." The delivery guy walked back out the front door and into his waiting truck. Meg went into her office and closed the door. She'd forgotten she'd ordered maternity clothes after finding out she was expecting the first time. There were other things in the box as well, baby clothes, toys and a memory book. Part of the Inspector wanted to take the box, unopened, and toss it into the dumpster down the street. The other part of her knew that it wouldn't solve her problems, or take away the guilt she felt for losing the child in the first place.

"I don't have time for this." Meg sighed heavily before turning around and marching out of her office.

_**After Work ….**_

Turnbull settled his Stetson on his sandy head as he prepared to walk home from the consulate. It had been a full day of sentry duty and doing errands in preparation for the Canada Day celebration.

"I expect you to be at the consulate an hour early tomorrow morning, Constable Turnbull, do you understand?" Meg called from her office door as the junior Mountie.

"Yes, Sir." Turnbull stopped and answered.

"Have a good evening, Constable." Meg greeted him, her tone still bossy.

"You as well, Sir." The younger Mountie nodded before turning to leave the consulate. Meg stepped back into her office when she heard the sound of familiar boot steps on the hardwood floor.

"Good evening, Inspector, you're here late." Fraser stepped gingerly down the hall from his home/office to her door way.

"Just finishing up a few last minute details before the celebration." Meg answered neutrally. She'd kept her tone and behavior strictly professional since asking Fraser to stop massaging her foot. Fraser understood her reaction, his had been the same; don't cross the line again, you'll get hurt if you do.

"Can I be of assistance, Inspector?" Fraser asked, studying her tired eyes and slight frown.

"No, no thank you, it's nothing really, I'll be ready to leave in a few minutes." Meg declined quickly.

"Dief and I were just about to take an evening walk, perhaps I could walk you to your car when you're ready." Fraser didn't like the idea of Meg walking to her car alone in the evening. The neighborhood around the consulate wasn't particularly dangerous, but one could never be too careful.

"Maybe," Meg shrugged. She tried hard to make herself do the exact opposite of what she actually wanted to do, of what her heart begged her to do. Sometimes she slipped, sometimes she was on top of the train again; a runaway.

Fifteen minutes later Meg had finished her preparations and secured her office. She carried her box of clothing in both hands as she tried to maneuver down the consulate's front steps.

"Allow me, Inspector." Fraser took the box from her, carrying it much easier than she had. Dief didn't move from his spot on the sidewalk, staying off Thatcher's radar.

"Thank you, Fraser." Meg pulled her briefcase shoulder strap into place and followed the Mountie, now dressed in civilian clothes down the street to her waiting, maroon Camry. Dressed in jeans and a light weight button down shirt, he was a heavenly vision of maleness. Meg didn't mind the rear view at all. She'd heard someone once say, "Wrangler butts drive me nuts." Seeing Fraser in a pair drove the lady Mountie almost squirrely.

"Would you like this in the backseat or the trunk?" Fraser stood at the back door of the reliable import.

"The backseat, just give me a moment to unlock the doors." Meg pulled her remote fob out of her purse and hit the unlock button. Fraser easily set the box in the back seat and closed the door. Dief took an inconspicuous spot on the sidewalk near the car.

"We should be finished with the Canada Day preparations tomorrow, thankfully." Meg found herself saying just to fill the silence. The sun wasn't set yet and there was a breeze off the lake carried by the city's traffic.

"Yes, I believe it will be an enjoyable celebration." Fraser agreed, standing at parade rest out of habit.

"Have a good evening, Fraser, I'll see you tomorrow." Meg's fingers toyed with her keys as she tried to maintain her professionalism.

"How is your mother, Margaret?" Fraser said suddenly, moving closer.

"She's fine, I spoke with her the other day." Meg blinked a few times, wondering at his sudden curiosity.

"That's good, I'm glad you can still talk to her." Fraser put his hand up to steady his Stetson as the breeze kicked up for a moment. He chided himself for asking something so obviously none of his business. _"I didn't want her to leave just yet."_ Being a friend was a work in progress for him. Admiring her from afar was much more comfortable. He ducked his head as his mind skipped around.

"I am lucky, Mom is in excellent health and we have a good relationship, flawed but good." Meg shrugged, feeling guilty. Fraser's father was dead, that much she knew for certain. She thought his mother had passed on as well but no one had ever said for sure.

"I'm glad." Fraser met her gaze, his tongue toying with his slightly imperfect eyetooth.

Meg raised a curious brow without meaning to.

"I'm glad you and your mother are on good terms. My father and I, before he died, we were," He paused, looking at his boots. "My father and I didn't speak to each other that often before his death." He was being stoic, Meg could tell. A wave of pain crossed his light eyes. Benton couldn't keep his emotions out of his eyes completely.

"That is his great loss." Meg laid her free hand on his bicep, her dark eyes kinder than Ben had seen them before. He couldn't say anything, couldn't respond. Timidly, he laid his hand over hers and nodded.

After a moment, the lady Mountie reluctantly pulled her hand away and found her car key. Fraser walked around the back of the car, onto the sidewalk beside Dief.

"Good night, Margaret." Benton waved stiffly, unsure of how to act after she'd been so soft and kind.

"Good night, Fra," She paused, turning her head to the side for a moment. "Good night, Benton." Meg said his name deliberately, enunciating each letter for the first time. Fraser's lips quirked at the corners. He simply nodded.

Meg drove home happier than she'd been all day. The box in the back no longer seemed like a delayed reaction guilt trip.

_**Meg's Apartment ….**_

Getting the box of maternity wear up to Meg's apartment hadn't been as easy for her as it had been for Fraser to carry it to her car. At least there was the elevator. When Meg finally made it through the door the phone started ringing. She set the box in the floor and picked up the cordless handset.

"Hello, Canadian Consulate, Inspector Thatcher speaking." She rattled off out of habit.

"Well, hello, Meg." Patricia's chuckle greeted her.

"I'm sorry, I just got home from the consulate. How are you?" Meg hung her purse on the back of a kitchen chair and laid her briefcase on the table. Next she slipped out of her dress shoes. Where was Fraser with a foot massage when she needed him.

"Oh, I'm fine, Denver and Mattie are at his parents for the weekend so I thought I'd catch up on about a million things I've been meaning to do for months. You're at the top of the list." She may have technically been complaining but Meg heard the bragging in her friend's voice instead.

"Yes, well, you had to start somewhere." It was difficult not to sound snippy.

"What's going on in your small piece of Canada these days?" Meg slid out of her dark jacket and sat down on her sofa.

"I'm in the process of planning a Canada Day celebration. The guest list is massive, half of them don't like the other half so seating is a nightmare." Diplomacy is a tedious thing sometimes, even to Meg, who was a master at it.

"I can imagine, I helped Audrey plan her daughter's birthday party last week and it was awful. Caitlin has peanut allergies, Daniel is allergic to red food coloring and Marcus' parents can't make him quit saying curse words in front of the other children in Mattie's play group." Meg rolled her eyes at her friend's complaint. Squabbling children were a lot different than unhappy diplomats. If one ambassador got pissed then a dozen treaties and agreements that had taken thousands of man hours to negotiate flew right out the window. Money was lost and people's lives were impacted in negative ways.

"Sounds interesting." Meg turned on the television, muting the volume as a news channel reporter gave details on a peace talk in the Middle East.

"I ran into Dana McBride the other day, she said she saw you downtown walking into a fertility clinic, well, I told her that she was mistaken. Why would Meg Thatcher need to go somewhere like that. I mean, you've always been able to snag any man you set your eye on." Patricia was fishing and Meg knew it, her temper didn't.

"There are a myriad of reasons for a woman to see a fertility specialist, Patricia." Meg spat out before her brain could stop her.

"Well, I didn't mean to upset you, Meg, I was just trying to make conversation. Dana must have seen someone who looked like you." She tried to smooth things over.

"No, she didn't, Patricia, I've been a patient of the Windy City Women's Clinic for the last three months or so. I'm planning on starting a family as soon as possible." Meg said crisply, trying to remember this was her only friend in Chicago.

"Who is the lucky guy, I hadn't heard you were dating anyone in particular." Patricia dug for info.

"There is no 'lucky guy', I'm having in vitro fertilization with donor sperm. Not all of us are fortunate enough to have the perfect husband, the perfect child, the perfect life where our biggest worries are peanut allergies and kids saying dirty words. Some of us try to make the world a better place by finding common ground for representatives from different countries to come together, to remind them that their country isn't the center of the universe." The lady Mountie was on a roll and too mad to stop herself.

"Well, if your life is so perfect, Margaret Thatcher, then why are you spending it all alone. You'll end up a dried up old shrew yet, especially with that attitude. I'm sorry if my child and my husband aren't as important as your diplomatic soiree." Meg heard the dial tone after Patricia hung up on her. The lady Mountie threw the cordless phone to the other end of the sofa. She wanted to kick something, to feel it break in her hands as she crushed it. Tears welled in her dark eyes. She knew she shouldn't have said what she had to Patricia but she'd felt that way for so long her petty gossip and sneering tone had been the last straw.

_**TYKTYKTYK **_


	11. Chapter 11 Nudge

_**Late Evening ….**_

Meg had changed into jeans, an RCMP sweatshirt and tennis shoes before taking a walk around the block. She found herself outside the consulate, still feeling awful for being a bitch to Patricia and for being jealous of her friend. Yellow street lights illuminated the brick building as the Canadian flag snapped proudly overhead. It symbolized so much of Meg's life; her career, ambition, goals, priorities. The Force had been her constant companion since joining after finishing school. More of her life had been spent serving her country than doing anything else. It wasn't enough at the end of the day. Even if she saved the world, at the end of the day Meg's arms were still empty.

"Inspector Thatcher?" Fraser's voice broke into Meg's thoughts as she stood beneath the street light staring absently at the building.

"Oh, Fraser." She whirled around, surprised to see the Mountie in civilian clothes and his Stetson.

"It's late, was there something you needed?" Fraser stepped into the circle of light with Meg. She seemed preoccupied and somewhat upset.

"I needed to clear my mind, I ended up here." Meg took a deep breath, trying to paste on a neutral mask.

"Would you care to join me for a cup of coffee?" Ben nodded toward the cafe down the street, his hands behind his back as he stood at parade rest, even in jeans.

Meg didn't answer immediately, trying to decide. She didn't want to be alone, but she didn't want to share her troubles with Fraser either.

"It's unprofessional I suppose, I shouldn't have put you in that position, my ap..."

"I'd love a cup of coffee, Fraser, thank you." Meg cut him off before he could apologize again. Apologizing meant he felt sorry and he'd done nothing to be sorry for.

"After you." Benton gestured for Meg to take the lead. Dief groaned, catching his human's attention.

"I'll meet you back at the consulate in a while." Fraser said in a low tone. The wolf just turned and walked up the sidewalk to the consulate.

"How do you know he'll be there when you get back?" Meg asked, trying to make conversation so Fraser wouldn't ask her anything.

"Trust, over the years we've earned each other's trust." Together they began strolling down the sidewalk toward the cafe. Pools of yellow light from the streetlights illuminated the way.

"The way you and the detective have earned each other's trust?" Meg continued, shoving her hands into her pockets.

"Yes," Benton answered thoughtfully.

"I've seen the way you quarrel with Detective Vecchio, ah, with Ray, how do you trust someone you can't get along with?"

Fraser paused, trying to decide the best way to answer her double entandre.

"Ray and I may disagree but we know when the time comes either of us will do whatever it takes to protect the other, regardless of personal differences. He's my friend, I have faith in that." Benton held Meg's gaze when she looked up at him.

_"Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of of things not seen."_ Meg quoted Hebrews chapter eleven, verse one.

"Exactly." Fraser sounded pleased to hear her quote.

"The cafe is still open." Meg avoided the awkward silence between them as she stepped quickly toward the small shop.

Estelle's Cafe was still open, a brisk business keeping the place hopping until nearly midnight. It was a nondescript place, a few tables against one wall, a display case of pastries and an array of coffee paraphenalia taking up the bulk of the space behind the cash register. Fraser opened the door for Meg to walk into the heavenly smelling cafe. She waited almost five minutes for him to quit holding the door open for other patrons. Finally, Fraser joined her at the end of the moderate line. They stood in silence, both examining the menu board behind the register.

A few minutes later the Mounties took their coffees and bear claws to-go. Fraser ordered a second bear claw for Dief, to share the next morning. Walking back to the consulate, the pair kept their thoughts to themselves, instead enjoying the uncrowded streets and nice weather.

"Would you like to sit on the steps, Margaret?" Benton asked, hoping to maintain the cordial feeling between them.

"I didn't want to go in either." Meg brushed off the top step before sitting down on the cool cement.

Fraser studied her out of the corner of his eye for a moment. Meg still seemed distracted, in a quite different mood from the one she'd left the consulate in. He wondered what burdened her.

"Is there anything you'd like to talk about?" Ben wondered if she'd had a spat with her mother since leaving the consulate. Overhead the Canadian flag snapped in the wind.

"I just needed to get out of the apartment, clear my head, I'm fine, Fraser." Meg gave him the same answer she'd given him earlier.

"Understood." Fraser answered crisply.

"It's not like that," Meg set her coffee down on the step, leaning back to look up at the sky. With a sigh she began again. "I had a fight with a friend, some things were said that shouldn't have been."

"You are still upset with your friend?" Fraser said tentatively, trying not to say the wrong thing.

"I'm upset with myself mostly. Patricia has a husband, a beautiful daughter and I am so envious I can't see straight. I've worked hard for my position, for respect from fellow officers. I've tried to serve my country honorably and I'm jealous of a housewife. Patricia and I had so many dreams when we were younger." Meg leaned back on her elbows, still staring up at the neon lit sky overhead.

"Have your dreams changed since then?" Benton asked, holding on to the openness between them, the free and easy communication. Meg turned to look over at him, her dark eyes misty.

"Not changed, so to speak, I suppose I've added to them. I wanted to be an RCMP officer now I want to be an officer and a mother." She ran her fingers through her short hair, coffee forgotten.

"You'll be as fine a mother as you are an officer, Margaret." Benton reassured her, his light eyes staring at her profile against the wrought iron railing behind her. Meg let out a dry, rueful chuckle.

"Some would say I'm not a very good officer." She took a deep breath. She'd overcome so many obstacles to become a Inspector. People perceived Meg as so many things she wasn't, all of them nasty.

"I disagree." Two words that made Meg feel better, especially paired with the sincerity in Fraser's eyes and the warm hand he laid gently over hers for a brief moment.

"How do you always see the good in people, Fraser, it mystifies me. I've treated you and Turnbull awfully and yet here you sit, making me feel better." Meg's wine lips twitched as she quickly blinked her misty tears away.

"My grandmother taught me to treat others as I would have them treat me in return." Benton squeezed her fingers gently, letting a real smile brighten his face. He held her gaze for a long moment, trying to determine the emotion he saw there. Whatever it was, Benton felt his heart speed up.

Meg felt Fraser's calloused fingers against her smaller hand. He was so warm, so different from the stiff, professional officer she'd come to know since arriving in Chicago. She'd wasted so much time trying to force him out of the Force, trying to ignore him, trying to deny her emotions and attraction. Fraser was her friend because he wanted to be, not because of anything she'd done, or what he would gain. He wanted to make her feel better.

"Thank you, Fraser." Meg nudged him with her shoulder. Then it struck her, she'd called him 'Fraser'.

"No, I meant thank you, _Benton_." Meg nodded confidently, saying his name like a friend.

"You are most welcome, Margaret." Benton smiled, nudging her back playfully.

They talked for a little while longer before Fraser insisted on calling a cab to take Meg home. She insisted that she would be fine, but let him call a cab anyway. It was nice to be taken care of on occasion. _**TYKTYKTYK**___


	12. Chapter 12 Into the Friend Zone

_**Thursday ….**_

Meg's appointment at Windy City Women's Clinic was set for first thing in the morning. The lady Mountie felt apprehensive, gun shy after her last experience. Ten minutes before eight Meg was standing outside the clinic in a light jacket, holding her briefcase and take-out coffee cup. She hadn't eaten, partially because she would be having blood work and partially because her nerves cut her appetite.

"Good morning, Ms. Thatcher, you're early." Katie, the receptionist Meg had met her first time at the clinic, greeted her as she unlocked the front door.

"I'm always early." Meg forced a smile past the lump in her throat as she followed the young morning person inside the waiting room.

"It's the best way to get stuff done." Katie tucked a strand of honey blonde hair behind her ear. With her light blue eyes and cheerleader figure, she could have been a television actress.

"Dr. Milton isn't here yet, he's running behind this morning, I'll call you back as soon as he's ready." The receptionist let herself into her cubical just as the phone began to ring. Meg took a seat and picked up the _Better Homes and Gardens_ magazine she'd already read twice. The photos still looked fake. After a few pages she laid it back down on the chair beside her and pulled out her address book, determined to finish the baby show guest list once and for all. Fraser most definitely took the first invitation this time. Meg had drifted off to sleep thinking of their coffee and conversation the night before. He'd persisted in his gentle way until she told him about her argument with Patricia. Nothing had been solved but Meg left the consulate feeling better, more at peace.

"Ms. Thatcher, Dr. Milton is ready for you." Katie called from her window, pulling Meg back to the task at hand.

_**Fraser's Office ….**_

"Constable Fraser, good morning." Turnbull paused on his way to the kitchen. The blond Mountie had his usual, chipper smile pasted on his fair face.

"Hello, Constable Turnbull." Fraser greeted him as he adjusted his lanyard for the day.

"Inspector Thatcher hasn't arrived yet this morning, her office is still dark." Turnbull stood at parade rest just inside the small office. Diefenbaker strolled over to greet him, hoping for a treat or an interesting new scent.

"Inspector Thatcher had an appointment this morning, she'll be in directly." Fraser answered in a tone he hoped had enough authority in it to keep the junior Mountie from asking questions.

"Hmm, she's been having appointments more frequently the last few months, I hope she's in good health." Turnbull frowned, pondering his superior's behavior.

"Inspector Thatcher is quite alright, Turnbull, no need for concern." Fraser reassured him, searching for something to change the subject to.

"I should be on sentry duty in a moment, I should be going." Turnbull distracted himself, thankfully for Fraser.

"I have an appointment with Assistant District Attorney Kowalski this morning, I should be back before lunch." Fraser said as he put his Stetson on his head. Dief had beat him to the door and stood waiting. The ADA's secretary kept dog treats in her desk for the old wolf.

_**TYK-TYK-TYK**_

Meg and Fraser crossed paths after their respective appointments were through. The red clad Mountie caught sight of the Inspector across the street, her long, chocolate brown coat flapping in the breeze from passing traffic.

"Good morning, Inspector." Fraser crossed the street to catch up, Dief in tow.

"Hello, Constable Fraser." Meg said before biting into a mustard covered pretzel. It wasn't the most nutritious breakfast in the world but it would have to do.

"How was your appointment?" Ben asked in a low tone. People milled up and down the street, going about their business as the Canadians ambled toward the consulate.

"It went fine, thank you. I'll be on call for the next week or so." Meg didn't know why they were whispering, there wasn't anyone around to overhear.

"Let me know if I can be of any assistance." Fraser offered. A boy came barreling around the corner, running as hard and fast as his feet would carry him, a huge German Shepherd on his trail. The boy weaved around people, his legs pumping furiously and a backpack slapping against his back. Fraser took Meg's elbow and swept her against a trash can, out of the boy and the dog's path. In the process he crushed her pretzel to her business blazer, mustard first.

"Very sorry, Inspector." He frowned before taking off after the boy who couldn't be more than twelve. Meg stood on the sidewalk stunned, watching the boy, the dog and the Mountie running down the sidewalk away from her.

"Damn it, Fraser." Meg cursed, mustard clashing with her ivory blouse and egg plant blazer. She threw the rest of her pretzel in the trash and pulled a wad of paper napkins out of her coat pocket to wipe the mess away.

Fraser chased the dog and the boy into an alley between a stationary shop and a audiology specialist's office. He saw a dangling fire escape ladder and jumped for it.

"Up here." Fraser shouted at the boy as he pulled the heavy metal ladder down to the ground. The boy took off up one side of the ladder while Fraser waited, making sure the dog couldn't follow. The pissed off German Shepherd jumped, snarling and biting as it tried to reach the humans. It's deep growl and barks sent chills up even Fraser's spine. The Mountie had heard such noises out of packs of wolves hunting caribou. Chilling viscousness rose up after the pair as they climbed.

"You're alright now, son, can you climb?" Fraser asked the boy when he stopped at the first opportunity. Wide eyed, the middle school boy shook his head, sweat rolling down his face, soaking his t-shirt.

"Take a rest, here, let me take your pack for a while." Fraser offered his hand to take the full backpack from the boy. Strands of wheat blond hair were plastered to his head and his knees were weak. Hesitantly, the boy shrugged out of his backpack and handed it to Fraser.

"What's your name?" Fraser asked conversationally.

"Bobby." He managed to squeak out through gulped breaths.

"Hello, Bobby, I'm Constable Fraser." The Mountie nodded as he stood below the boy who stared down at the snapping dog.

"What kind of cop are you?" Bobby shifted his attention away from the German Shepherd.

"A Mountie, with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police." Fraser answered, opening up a can of worms on purpose. He wanted to get the boy's attention away from the dog so he would calm down enough to continue climbing.

"If you're a cop in Canada then what are you doing in Chicago?" It was a gallon size can of worms.

"Ah, I first came to Chicago on the trail of the man responsible for murder of my father …." The boy's eyes glazed over when Benton began talking about Ray Vecchio and his precious emerald green Buick Riviera.

"Fraser, it's safe to come down now." Meg's voice cut him off when he began telling about Ray's identification of noses.

"What about the dog?" Bobby yelled down, his light eyes scanning the alley.

"Animal control tranquilized the dog." Meg yelled back. From the look in her dark eyes, Fraser wasn't in any hurry to come down the fire escape ladder. He'd almost rather face the German Shepherd.

"Thanks for helping me out, Mister." Bobby thanked Fraser before worming his way down the ladder.

"You're welcome, Bobby." Fraser handed him the backpack then made his own way to the ground.

"Inspector Thatcher, this is Bobby." Fraser introduced the boy, half hoping she would be civil in front of him.

"Where were you heading, Bobby?" Meg asked the boy casually, casting an annoyed glance at Fraser.

"I was headed home, I went to the store for Mom." Bobby opened his backpack to show a bag of rice, two cans of condensed cream of mushroom soup and a bag of flour.

"Can we walk you home?" The lady Mountie offered, her tone softer.

"Yeah, sure, maybe Mom won't go gonzo 'cause I took too long." Bobby shrugged, shouldering his bag again.

"Why was the dog chasing you?" Meg asked, following Bobby's lead, Fraser bringing up the rear.

_**The Consulate …..**_

Meg walked into the consulate, taking off her blazer and heading into her office where she kept a spare set of clothes.

"Fraser, give me ten minutes then I want to see you in my office, understand?" She said crisply.

"Yes, Sir." Fraser took off his Stetson and hung it on the coat rack by the door.

"Did Inspector Thatcher have mustard on her silk blouse?" Turnbull asked once the office door clicked shut.

"Yes, I'm afraid I'm at fault, I pushed her out of the way of a boy being chased by a dog while she was eating a pretzel with mustard." Fraser shook his head, trying to remember what would bring the condiment out of high end silk.

"Oh dear." Turnbull clucked his tongue, knowing the scolding Fraser had in store for him.

"I agree." Fraser checked his watch before tapping on Thatcher's door.

"Come in, Constable Fraser." Meg called. She wore a black, ribbed, cotton t-shirt with her egg plant skirt and pearls. The pearls dripped over her collar bones and down toward the modest scoop neck. Fraser took a deep breath to steady himself, the new blouse hugged her curves in a most complimentary way.

"Please explain to me why my silk blouse and blazer now have mustard stains on them?" She fixed him with her rhetorical question stare.

"May I just say that I apologize, I was simply trying to prevent …." Fraser stopped when he saw her hand go up, her dark eyes flashing beneath long, lacy lashes.

"Take them to the cleaners, _you _pay the bill." She handed him a white plastic bag with her blouse and blazer in it.

"Yes, Sir." Fraser took the bag, thinking to himself how light he'd gotten off, considering.

"Oh, and Constable Fraser, nice job with the boy, you were able to calm him down much easier than I could have." Meg caught him two steps away from her desk. Benton nodded, taking the compliment gracefully.

"And a warning would have been nice." She raised an eyebrow but there wasn't a trace of annoyance or reprimand in her lovely eyes.

"Yes, Sir." Fraser nodded, a conspiratorial smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

_**TYK-TYK-TYK**_

Ray paced the length of his car like a tiger in a cage. The blond detective had been fuming for the last twenty minutes outside the justice building. He and his ex-wife had had a verbal sparing session in her office over his paperwork for an important robbery case. There were several volleys thrown from both sides before Fraser was able to calm both ADA Stella Kowalski and Ray, aka Vecchio, down enough to talk like civilized adults.

"Women are the most fickle things I've, they just get under your skin and start suckin like leeches or vampires er somethin'." Ray pounded his fist against the black, GTO but didn't do any damage.

"Ray, not all women are alike. There must have been a time when you and Stella were quite happy, you were married for several years." Benton pointed out logically.

"Yeah, I guess, on the dance floor things were always greatness." Ray leaned on the side of he car, his arms over his chest as he remembered all the hours they'd spent in each other's embrace, moving in unison to the music.

"Are you hungry, Ray?" Fraser asked, shaking the detective out of his reverie.

"Yeah, sure, let's go." Ray stood up off the car and opened the driver's side door. Fraser was glad to see he was feeling much better.

"Oh, Ray, I have to drop by the dry cleaners after we eat, I need to pick up Inspector Thatcher's blouse and jacket." That didn't sound as innocent as Ray knew it to be.

"Sure, buddy, no problem." The detective grinned mischievously as he pulled the American muscle car into the stream of mid-day traffic.

_**TYK-TYK-TYK**_

"I'm very sorry, Constable Fraser, the mustard stain wouldn't come out of the silk blouse, it came out of the jacket just fine." Mr. Perry, the elderly owner of Perry Family Dry Cleaners apologized, his eye rheumy through his round reading glasses.

"Oh dear, that is a problem." Fraser frowned. The shop smelled clean and crisp. Large windows fronting the street let in afternoon sunlight.

"I won't charge for the blouse, it's very rare that we can't get stains out." Mr. Perry shook his balding head, his hands rummaging around in his sweater pockets. Fraser insisted on paying for both items. The payment for the blouse ended up in a charity jar for Juvenile Diabetes.

_**TYK-TYK-TYK**_

Snowflakes swirled around the sidewalks, sticking to Meg's hair as she walked back to the consulate after lunch. Most Chicagoans were hunkered down into their coats, braced against the wind and snow. The Canadian took it in stride. She felt hopeful about her life. She and Fraser had gotten past one or two of the walls that had caused them so much tension and Dr. Milton had been optimistic about the next round of IVF. Life was good.

"Inspector Thatcher," Fraser's voice cut through Meg's thoughts as she neared the consulate steps.

"Constable Fraser, good afternoon." She greeted him pleasantly. He waved to Ray through the window before the GTO pulled away. The Mountie held the dry cleaning.

"I'm afraid I have bad news about the silk blouse." Fraser handed her the plastic clad bags.

"Oh, was it destroyed?" Meg frowned. She loved that silk blouse, it went well with so many of her pant and skirt suits.

"Mr. Perry wasn't able to remove the mustard stain." Fraser waited for Meg to give him a mouthful. Instead she frowned, her dark eyes showing her annoyance.

BEEP BEEP BEEP

"Dr. Milton's office, I have to go." Meg's expression changed instantly.

"Would you like me to accompany you, Inspector?" Fraser asked impulsively. He'd had to pick her up last time.

Meg stopped in her tracks, turning to look at her subordinate officer.

"Thank you, Constable Fraser, I'll tell Turnbull we'll be out the majority of the afternoon." Meg went up the steps to find the junior Mountie. Ten minutes, and minus the dry cleaning later, Meg and Fraser were off to Dr. Milton's office.

_**Afterward ….**_

Just like the last time, Meg was in no condition to take herself home. She was glad Fraser had gone with her to the Windy City Women's Clinic. Having him on hand as soon as the procedure was finished sent her home to bed a lot sooner this time. The cab ride to her apartment felt like forever though.

Ben helped Meg up to her apartment, unlocking the door for her as she leaned against the wall. She hadn't said anything on the way back. Ben was glad he'd escorted her home. Meg seemed very small and vulnerable.

"Would you like to settle down on the couch or in your bedroom, Margaret?" Ben asked quietly, turning on a table lamp.

"My bed, thank you." She slipped out of her fashionable boots and wool coat, tossing them on the couch as she wobbled her way to the bedroom. The lady Mountie stopped as the world spun, leaning against the wall.

"Margaret, allow me." Fraser took her hand, keeping her from sliding down the wall to the floor. He gently scooped her up like a child and carried her into the bedroom.

"I could have walked, Fraser."

"Yes, I know." He simply agreed, laying her down on top of the antique white, flannel comforter with vivid, red cabbage roses scattered across it. He turned on the bedside lamp, illuminating the dark room. It was as feminine as her office wasn't. The room leaned toward Victorian style lace and roses.

Slowly, Meg found her way beneath the flannel comforter, laying in the middle of her queen bed. She hadn't even pulled off her business jacket or jewelry. Ben stood up to leave.

"Benton, sit for a minute, okay?" Meg rolled over onto her side. The Mountie sat down on the side of the bed, perched on the edge.

"You've been wonderful about all this, I really appreciate everything you've done, like just being there for me. I know I probably wouldn't be saying this if I weren't three sheets to the wind on pain medication, but I wish I could have found a good man just like you to settle down with and have this child." She slapped him playfully on the arm with a sleepy smile.

"You're most welcome, Margaret. I'm certain you'll find the right spouse soon enough." Fraser's low voice sounded sad, even to his ears. Thinking of someone else taking care of her felt like a knife to the gut.

"You'll always be my friend, Benton." Meg sat up, taking Ben's hand in both of hers.

"Yes, Margaret, I'll always be your friend." It felt like someone had turned the knife in his gut. Standing up again, Ben pulled the comforter up around Meg's shoulders and turned off the bedside lamp. He closed the bedroom door softly and found his way to the arm chair in the corner of the living room. He didn't want to go back to the consulate, didn't want to go to the Twenty-seventh Precinct and it was too cold to wander the streets as he usually did when he had something on his mind. Instead he sat in the dim living room, alone with his thoughts.

_**TYK-TYK-TYK**_


	13. Chapter 13 Friday Night

_**The Princess Margaret Suite …**_

_**Weeks Later …. **_

Meg sat on the queen sized bed, the lights off and the drapes drawn tight. The room was cool around her despite her wool sweater and denim jeans. She didn't feel any of it. The lady Mountie sat staring into the darkness, its' absence of light mirroring her own hollow feeling. She wanted to badly to be a mother, to feel that wonderful, unshakable love between herself and a child. She dreamed of showing her child the world for the first time, exploring that world with them as they grew. Meg had so much love and no one to give it to, no one to share her life with. The older she got the worse that felt. In her teens the world had held endless opportunities. Her twenties were spent pursuing her goals, keeping busy and focused. In her thirties, Meg wanted to slow down a bit, to search for the deeper meaning of her life. Now she felt like there was no meaning to her life.

"Inspector Thatcher, are you alright?" Fraser's voice carried through the closed door.

"I'm fine, Fraser, I don't want any company." Meg said, tears streaming down her cheeks, mascara and all. She wanted to be alone with her pain, and she especially didn't want Fraser to see her crying.

"May I come in?" Fraser persisted, his hand resting on the knob.

"I said I don't want company, Constable Fraser, please go." Meg felt like throwing something at the door, but nothing was handy.

"I'm coming in." He turned the knob and pushed the door open, a sliver of light the only illumination in the bedroom. Meg had come back to the consulate half an hour before from her appointment with Dr. Milton and disappeared upstairs. Turnbull had left and Fraser's shift was over.

"What part of _'leave'_ do you not understand, Fraser?" Meg held her hand up to keep the light out of her eyes. He could still see the dark mascara stains running down her cheeks.

"I'd rather have you angry with me than for something to happen to you." He closed the door and stepped carefully into the room, turning on the lamp on the bedside table.

"I'm fine, Fraser, just go." Meg sighed as if the weight of the world were on her shoulders.

"Talk to me, Meg, tell me what's wrong." He sat down on the bed beside her, only inches separating them at the shoulders.

"Fine," She slumped a little as she sat there in the dim room. "The en vitro process wasn't successful, this was the second attempt. I don't have the money to try again." Meg's voice was unnaturally devoid of emotion.

"Perhaps you can try again later." Ben offered, studying her.

"No, Fraser, there won't be a next time, I'm not a good candidate." She leaned her head on her hands, fresh tears welling in her dark eyes. "I wanted a baby so badly, I could give a child a good, loving home." She sobbed before she could stop herself. Meg sat up again, wiping her eyes which didn't do much good. She felt Fraser slide his arm around her shoulder and pull her closer. Meg leaned her head against his shoulder and slipped her arms around him. Ben rocked her, letting her cry against his leather jacket. His embrace was warm and comforting.

"There, there, Meg, everything is going to be alright." Ben whispered as he smoothed her short hair away from her face.

"I wish that were true." Meg sniffed, trying to quit crying. She felt so mentally tired.

"There are other options." Ben offered, but it was like throwing a lit match on a wild fire.

"Thank you for trying, Fraser, but I think I should get used to reality." Meg shrugged, yawning.

"Perhaps with a good night's sleep things will look brighter in the morning." The Mountie smiled.

"I don't feel like going home." Meg shook her head, unbidden tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Stay here, tomorrow is Saturday, the consulate will be unoccupied." Ben didn't like the thoughts of Meg going home alone anyway.

"I think I will." A night in a different place sounded inviting. Knowing Ben was just downstairs didn't hurt either. Meg sat up straight. She loved the way that Fraser's hand rested on the small of her back. Quickly, the lady Mountie kicked off her loafers and shrugged out of her black blazer.

Ben stood up and turned back the covers for her. It was a large bed with soft, expensive sheets. He watched Meg slide into bed, fully dressed.

"Don't go." Ben heard her husky voice say as he reached to turn the lamp off. He heard the sheets rustle as Meg sat up. Her dark eyes were wide and so deep.

"Okay." Ben said softly, leaving the light burning.

"Hold me for a while before you go." She scooted over to allow him room. Meg felt like she had nothing left to lose so she might as well gamble and ask for what she'd been dreaming about for months.

Quickly, Ben shrugged out of his jacket and untied his boots before hanging his jacket over the back of the chair at the desk. He laid down on top of the quilt, facing Meg. She slid her arm around his rib cage as he pulled her close.

"Thank you, Ben." Meg figured while she was on a roll, why not go for it.

"You're welcome, Meg." He looked into her eyes as he caressed her cheek with his rough thumb.

"Kiss me," Meg more mouthed than whispered, her heart pounding. "only if you want to." She added, her mind spinning. It surprised her when Ben's lips met hers. Closing her eyes, Meg kissed him back, drinking in the sensation as if it would be her last. She felt his fingers brush the exposed skin across the small of her back, making her arch against him. Hungry for his touch, Meg slipped her hand into Ben's collar and down his back.

_"I shouldn't be doing this._" Registered clearly in Ben's mind. His body told him otherwise. Holding Meg this way felt right, it felt natural. Ben knew her well enough to know that she'd tell him if things went too far to suit her. Either way, he figured he'd regret this night.

"I want you, Ben." Meg said when she finally came up for air, her fingers in his hair. She ached for him, his kiss, his voice saying her name.

"You have me, I've always been right here." He answered, rubbing her back, his hand warm through the material of her sweater.

"I want you in the carnal sense." Meg clarified, feeling suddenly foolish. Ben lifted her chin and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. His other hand brushed her exposed skin again, this time sliding beneath her form fitting sweater. Ben heard her gasp.

"I know." He whispered in a deep voice that gave Meg good chills. She began fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, almost giddy. When she finally unfastened the last button, she stretched her fingers to explore his chest then progressed down his abdomen. She felt his breathing speed up, anticipation in his eyes. Nothing mattered, not the consulate, and especially not the regulations. He let her unfasten his jeans, her kisses trailing down his bare chest as she pushed at the denim material. Meg pulled off her sweater, tossing it into the darkness surrounding the bed. She felt Ben fumbling with the double buttons of her dress slacks. Their fingers collided when she went to help him with the confounding fasteners. Slipping out of the dark gray, wool material, Meg slid from beneath the covers as well. Ben's rough hands cupped her face as she lay against him on her side. He looked her deep in the eye, willing her to tell him to leave again. It wasn't too late to quit and pretend that all this had been a vague dream.

Finally, Meg smiled, her fingers running through his short, thick hair. Ben pressed a hot, desirous kiss to her full, wine colored lips. The lady Mountie rolled onto her back, letting Ben take control of the situation. She didn't want to be in charge for once. She knew that if she could relinquish control to anyone it would be Benton Fraser. Meg trusted him more than she'd admit to him or to herself. She knew he'd never hurt her or see her hurt if he could do anything about it.

Achingly slow, Ben began kissing Meg's neck, his body looming over hers. No layers existed between them, either figuratively or literally. They were just two people, alone in the dim light of a forty watt bulb. The consulate, the regulations, the world had all disappeared. Ben let himself explore places on Meg he'd only dreamed about in the privacy of the pre-dawn hours. She responded with every soft kiss, every caress, he gave her. Ben wanted her as much as she wanted him and Meg could feel his hunger. She let him take his time though she was dying to take him inside of her. When their eyes met Meg knew that Ben was taking his time on purpose, drawing out the easy pleasures while he could. She let him, fully surrendering to him. Ben saw the trust in her eyes. No one had ever trusted him as completely as Meg did in that moment. He had her love, Ben knew that, he'd longed for her trust. To receive her trust he knew that he'd have to give her his. There were things about him she would find out, things he'd rather not remember, much less tell. The dark places he'd gone in his soul when Victoria called to him from the train, the places he'd gone in his mind to forget their time together. Ben felt like he didn't deserve a good woman like Meg. How could someone so smart and morally decisive want him?

Kissing his way up her thigh, Ben moved slowly, savoring each sound, each sensation as he prepared to fulfill both their secret dreams. Tasting her lips again, he felt her hands roam his back then down his hip, the heat between them rising. She timidly put the heel of her hand on his hip bone. Looking down at her, Ben saw her need for his permission. Gently, he laid his hand over hers and kissed her. He needed her as much as she needed him just then. Both of them were tired of being lonely, of separating themselves into two different people for the sake of the job.

Ben gently edged his way into Meg. She met his desire with a sharp gasp, her body arching against him. Ben froze for a moment, wondering if he'd done something wrong.

Meg whispered, "Please, Ben, make love to me." Her voice begging him. She heard his ragged breathing as he stared down at her, concern in his eyes. She slipped her thighs around his waist and raised one hip against him. He filled her physically yes, but also emotionally. Both of them wondered why they hadn't done this sooner.

Within a heartbeat he was in control again. Time seemed to stop and the night and need claimed them both. Ben found his rhythm, rocking Meg slowly at first, enjoying the feel of her body pressed against his. Where he was hard she was soft. Meg called his name in a strangled cry of pleasure. Gone was her 'Inspector' tone of voice.

"Meg, sweet Meg." Ben groaned into her shoulder as he held himself back, prolonging her pleasure as well as his own. He didn't want this night to end.

Meg came first, the night's pleasure overwhelming her, a mindless groan escaping her throat, Ben's name on it's heels. The bed frame rattled beneath them, making the sensation that the earth shook even stronger. Ben joined her in brilliant ecstasy a few minutes later. Tears of joy and release slid from Meg's eyes as she lay against Ben's body, his breathing still fast and a bit jagged.

"What's wrong, Meg?" He craned to look at her face, his eyes full of concern.

"I'm happy." She took his hand as she snuggled down against him.

"That's all I ever want." Ben kissed her cheek and pulled Meg closer, his arms circling her trim frame. They laid awake for a while, enjoying the feeling of contentment, the clear skies after the storm. Meg fell asleep first, hogging the sheets. Ben let her, content to be next to her in such an intimate embrace.

_**Dawn ….**_

The next morning Ben woke to the sound of Diefenbaker barking and whimpering at the door to the bedroom. His eyes popped open and he wondered why there was a canopy over his cot. Then he felt Meg wiggle beside him. Her hair stood up all over her head and she looked at him with one sleepy eye before she smiled.

"Good morning." She kissed his cheek before stretching like a cat in the morning sunshine.

"Good morning, Meg." He let a slow smile spread across his face as he watched her move one way then another, finally curling into a ball in the middle of the big bed. Whining at the door pulled Ben's attention away from the mesmerizing sight of the lady Mountie smiling flirtatiously at him from beneath the sheets.

"Go, before your wolf makes Lake Michigan in the hall." Meg wrinkled her short, perky nose at him and smiled.

"I'll be back soon." Ben slipped out of bed, his eyes smoldering as he gathered his clothes.

"Take your time, I'm not going anywhere." Meg giggled as Ben danced around trying to stand on one foot and put his boxers on at the same time. The lady Mountie wondered what other surprises her subordinate officer had in store for her.

_**Later That Morning ….**_

Fraser walked Diefenbaker, whistling a jaunty tune as he followed the wolf around the block while he took care of business. The old wolf kept looking back, whizzing half an ounce, then moving on to another clump of grass or stick, taking his time to annoy his human.

"You know very well I wish to get back to the consulate before she can come to her senses." Ben said sternly to his oldest, furriest friend. Dief sighed then finished his business against a dormant forsythia bush.

"Thank you kindly." Fraser nodded toward the white fur ball. Five minutes later they walked up the front steps and into the consulate. Ben half expected Meg to be gone, but he heard her in the kitchen, grease sizzling in a skillet. She cracked two eggs into the skillet then tossed the shells carelessly into the open trash can halfway across the kitchen.

"Would you like some fried eggs, Ben?" She looked up at him for a split second, a smile pulling like the devil on the corner of her lips.

"Yes, two please." He answered, a smile also pulling on his features. She hadn't left and she wasn't unhappy or cross. All in all, it was turning in to a dream of a day.

"Toast or bagel?" Ben asked, manning the toaster on the counter beside her. A pot of coffee bubbled and dripped already. It smelled heavenly.

"Toast, thanks, how do you like your eggs?" Meg watched Ben bend over, looking in the refrigerator for the butter, his jeans taunt across his scrumptious butt. She nearly forgot about the eggs frying in the pan until she felt hot grease hit her thumb, just enough to wake her up.

"Over easy." He stood up, butter bowl in hand.

"Me too." She chirped, sounding like a school girl. Ben paused, wondering if he were dreaming. Was Inspector Margaret Thatcher standing in the consulate kitchen frying eggs for his breakfast? Ben shook his head, stranger things had happened- to him even.

The pair sat down at the small kitchen table in the corner of the industrial kitchen, each with a plate of fried eggs, toast, and coffee. Ben waited until Meg had started eating to tie in on his own breakfast. It was late for him, but then he'd spent several hours in her arms that he usually spent sleeping. Meg glanced over at him, taking great pains with her breakfast, her mind turning events over from every angle. For once she let her heart take the lead, her head was the reason behind her loneliness.

"Last night was ..." Meg began slowly, taking a deep breath before meeting Ben's open, expectant gaze. "I hope it wasn't the last." She laid her silverware down, puffing her cheeks out before releasing a breath. That had come out sounding _so_ dumb. Truthful but still dumb.

"I very much hope it wasn't the last as well." Relief surged through Ben as he laid his silverware down. Timidly, he took Meg's hand, squeezing her fingers for a second.

"It won't be easy, keeping our relationship separate from the consulate. For once, I hate my rank." Meg admitted, more to herself.

"I don't." Fraser's words popped out. Meg looked at him incredulously.

"If you weren't an Inspector you never would have been assigned to the Chicago Consulate." Ben reasoned. Meg rolled her eyes and laughed.

"How are we going to handle it when we disagree, professional objectivity isn't my strong suit." The lady Mountie changed the subject, tackling the tough questions first.

"Communication, we keep the lines of communication open between us." Ben suggested. He'd already thought of what a relationship with Meg would be like, the ups and the downs.

"Are you certain you're up to the challenge, Ben?" Meg looked him squarely in the eye. If he hesitated or seemed unsure, she'd let him bow out gracefully before trapping him in a relationship.

"Yes, eager actually." Ben smiled, picking up his fork. Meg blinked, surprised at his answer.

"You don't have to do this, Fraser, I understand if you have reservations, I haven't been easy to work for." She warned him, studying his reaction across the table. A million questions crossed her mind;_ Will this last? Will it go anywhere? Does he love me? _

"I have no reservations, Meg, I understand the consequences of taking on a relationship with you, both of us have been independent for quite some time, it will require some adjustment, for both of us." Ben leaned forward, meeting Meg's questioning gaze. New worlds were opening up for the lady Mountie as she looked deep into Ben's green eyes.

**TYKTYKTYK**


	14. Chapter 14 Meg's Ruby

_**Tuesday Morning ...**_

Fraser ran hard and fast after the purse snatcher. The young man had elbowed an elderly woman in the face and taken her purse on the bank steps. He gave the Mountie a good work out, as well as Dief. At first the half wolf enjoyed the chase, he was born for the chase. Four blocks through crowded streets later and he was over the thrill. Dief poured on the speed and caught up to the older teenager. He ran up onto a display table then pounced onto his back. The teen went down like a ton of bricks. Fraser caught up a minute later. People began gathering around the three. An older man, somewhere in his sixties, came out with a cordless phone and a broom.

"What's going on here?" The broom man's voice rose above the murmuring crowd.

"This dog like, attacked me." The teen began squirming beneath the Mountie, whose knee was lodged in the middle of his back.

"If you wouldn't mind calling the Twenty-seventh Precinct, tell the dispatcher that it's for Constable Fraser."

"That still doesn't tell me what's going on here, young man. I've been running a jewelry store on this street for twenty-five years, I've seen everything there is to see." The older man demanded.

"This young man stole Ms. Palmer's purse." Fraser jerked a tan, cloth bag from beneath the young suspect.

"Hey, I know that purse, that's Thelma's." Mr. Broom stepped forward. He handed Fraser the cordless phone as he glared down at the young thief. The Mountie dialed, mechanically telling the dispatcher the situation. Dief sat patiently near the prone thief, giving the young man reason not to escape.

_**An Hour Later ….**_

Ray swung by the scene out of curiosity. Two uniformed officers had found Ms. Thelma Palmer and escorted her to the jewelry store for identification of her purse and the thief. She was an irate, Jewish woman who had to be restrained when she began cursing in Yiddish and beating the young man with her purse. Fraser and Ray both received a few whacks by mistake when they intervened.

"I'll uh, I'll take her to the precinct for paperwork." Ray offered once Ms. Palmer had calmed down.

"Thank you, Ray, I'll be along directly." Fraser dusted off his Stetson before putting it on.

"See ya, buddy." Ray held the GTO door for the still fuming woman.

"Say, Mister, I'd like to thank you for catching that kid, Thelma can't afford to go a month without her husband's Social Security check." The broom wielding store owner had stepped forward.

"It's simply part of the job, Sir." Fraser shook his proffered hand, shrinking out of the spotlight.

"Ah, I know better, you don't see these beat cops hoofin' it to catch anything but a doughnut." The store owner waved Fraser's modesty away.

"Come on in, have a seat and chew the fat a minute." He invited Fraser inside. "I'm Cal Jones, by the way."

"Constable Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police, I first came here on the trail of the killers of my father ..." Mr. Jones' eyes glazed over.

"Anyway, I'm currently assigned to the Canadian Consulate here in Chicago." Fraser finished. He followed Mr. Jones into a small store measuring about twenty by twenty feet or so. One door led to a space in the back, presumably a storage room and manager's office. The majority of Jones' stock was within view of the large, front windows.

"Like what you see, Constable, this store has kept body and soul together for over twenty years." The lanky, balding man smiled broadly, spreading his hands to encompass the small space.

"It's quite nice, it rather reminds me of my grandparents' library in Inuvik." A flash of nostalgia shone in the Mountie's light eyes. Benton began surveying the rectangular display cases radiating out from a round case. Gemstones of every hue glittered beneath harsh, white light, a sparkling rainbow set against black velvet. Fraser's keen eyes focused on a ruby ringed by diamonds in a silver setting. It was simple, elegant and utterly Meg Thatcher.

"I see you've found something interesting." Mr. Jones moved toward the case and unlocked the back.

"Yes, the ruby, it reminds me of someone." Ben's pulse sped up. He wondered what Margaret's reaction would be if he gave her the ring. Would she like it or would she be angry? She was carrying his child for Pete's sake.

"This case is on special right now, affordable on a cop's salary." Mr. Jones tried the soft sell.

"What sizes do you have?" Fraser asked as the store owner handed him the ring.

"Oh, I can have it re-sized, or re-set if you'd like." The older man answered nonchalantly. Fraser took the ring in his right hand, trying to remember how Meg's fingers felt the last time he'd laced his with hers.

"This one should do nicely, thank you kindly." Benton stared into the depths of the firey stone, that fire swept through him, warming him.

"I'll wrap it up for you then." The old man took the ring back to the cash register. While he rang up the sale, Benton browsed a carousel of bookmarks stamped with initials, some with butterflies, others with roses. Impulsively, the Mountie picked up the letter 'M' with a butterfly.

"Those are real pretty, I've sold a dozen in the last week or so." Mr. Jones added the three dollar bookmark to the bill happily. Fraser put down every penny he had on his person and set up a payment agreement for later.

"If you can't trust a Mountie, who can you trust?" Mr. Jones shrugged as he tucked away the original copy of the recipt he and Fraser had signed.

"Thank you kindly, Mr. Jones." The Mountie nodded, a bright, effusive smile lighting his face.

"No, thank you, for me and Thelma Palmer." Mr Jones shook Fraser's hand warmly.

_**The Consulate ... Three Days Later ...**_

Fraser had been keeping the ring in his pocket since buying it. He'd had a dozen conversations with Dief, trying to figure out how to give the ring to Meg. Should he ask her or surprise her? Should he do it simply or make an occasion of it? Usually so decisive, Benton had frozen. Margaret had shut him down before.

"This is quite the predicament, old friend." Ben scratched the wolf's head as he sat on his cot late after cleaning up after his shift. Dief gave him a sympathetic groan.

_**The Next Day ...**_

Ray hummed as he returned from lunch at the corner deli. The new cashier, a perky red head with freckles, had slipped him her phone numbers as they checked out. Fraser ordering for Dief had put her off the usually fetching Mountie.

"Hey, Fraser, how was lunch?" Frannie strolled by, a flirty smile beneath dark, coy eyes.

"Ray was given a young lady's telephone number." Benton blurted out as the comely Civilian Aide peered at him hungrily. Ray hung his head, groaning. He had hoped to keep the happening to himself a while longer.

"Yeah, right, it's probably a practical joke, she gave him the number to the post office or somethin'." Frannie snorted her derision, teasing him. The detective made a sarcastic face.

"Here I was, about to get married and you went and ruined it, Fraser." Ray teased.

"I was unaware of that you and the young lady were previously acquainted." Fraser's eyes went wide.

"Sheesh, Fraser, I wasn't serious." Ray shook his head. Frannie giggled and rolled his eyes. Even Dief looked at him like he'd just fallen off the turnip truck. Fraser felt foolish but it did bring up a topic he'd hoped to speak to ray about. He'd hoped to catch Ray alone, or at least somewhere without Francesca.

"Ray, may I speak to you?" Fraser asked nervously, running his left thumb nail over his eyebrow.

"Sure, buddy, shoot." Ray shrugged, flipping through case files.

"In private, Ray?" That got the detective's attention.

"Yeah, let's see if there's an interview room open." The blond detective lead the way through the precinct. Benton and Dief followed. Unbeknownst to any of them, nosy Frannie tip toed into the observationn half of the interview room. She knew the Mountie well enough to know something serious was on his mind.

"Ray, could we speak in confidence?" Ben set his Stetson on the table in the middle of the room.

"Fire away." The detective sipped his coffee as he sat on the table, his holster bunched up around his shoulders.

"How would you propose marriage, if you were to propose to someone?" Anyone else would have squirmed. Fraser studied his friend.

"I don't know, Fraser, I asked Stella to uh, to marry me on the dance floor. It wasn't all that special really." Ray shrugged, then frowned.

"Who are you talkin' about, Fraser, you got a girlfriend tucked away somewhere you ain't told me about?" Ray grinned, giving Fraser an 'at-a-boy' slap on the back.

"No, nothing like that, Ray, I simply want your opinion on the best way to ask a lady for her hand in marriage." Fraser tried to maintain his calm. The thought of asking Meg to marry him made him naucious. He didn't know why, if it was the idea of rejection, or if it was the change in their relationship that made his gut seize up.

"Fraser, come clean, why else would you ask me a question like that?" Ray persisted, studying the nervous Canadian. With a hesitant sigh, Fraser pulled the ruby and diamond ring from his pocket and opened it for Ray's inspection.

"Geez, Fraser, I thought it was a what'll ya call it, hypothermous, question for someone else?" Ray took the dainty gem from it's velvet box and held it up to the light.

"I've been trying to think of a way to ask Inspector Thatcher to marry me for," Benton paused, puffing out his cheeks, "it feels like an eternity."

"You and the Ice Queen, get out." Ray chuckled. It was a preposterous idea.

"Thatcher, you're marrying Thatcher!" Frannie's wail carried all over the precinct. It raised the hair on the back of Dief's neck as he tried to figure out the source of the commotion. Ray and Fraser looked at each other before heading for the door.

"Frannie, is that you?" Ray asked as he yanked open the door to the observation room. The Civilian Aide was still staring at the two way mirror; eyes wide, mouth open, complexion pale, a look of utter horror on her face.

"How could you?" Frannie slapped Fraser's face before storming out of the room, great, sorrowful wails echoing off the cement block walls.

"Geez, she blew a transistor er somethin'." Ray shook his head at the scene in her wake.

"I hadn't anticipated that kind of vehement reaction." Fraser took the ring back and slid it, box and all, back in his pocket.

"Wonder how Turnbull's gonna take it?" Ray shook his head. He could hardly believe it himself.

_**TYKTYKTYK**_


	15. Chapter 15 Hundred to One

_**Two Weeks Later …. **_

Meg walked into her office as usual, coffee and briefcase in hand. She turned on the overhead light and set down her take-out cup. Lying on her desk blotter was a bookmark made of golden metal, an 'M' at the top and a filigree butterfly at the bottom. She sat down to examine the delicate work.

TAP, TAP, TAP, on the door pulled her attention away from the gift.

"Come in." The Inspector called, settling into her business persona.

"Good morning, Inspector, I brought the F-11 form you requested." Fraser stepped into the plushly appointed office.

"Thank you, Constable Fraser." She took the sheaf of papers and began to examine them. Fraser turned to leave.

"Constable Fraser," Meg called as he came level with the door.

Benton turned on his heel."Yes, Sir?" His gaze fell on the bookmark in Meg's hand.

"Is this your doing?" She held the bookmark in her palm, her eyes holding his gaze.

"Yes, Sir." Ben studied her reaction, nervous, hoping for a positive response.

"I can't accept this, Fraser." She handed it back.

"Ah, yes, I see, my apologies." He took the bookmark in hand.

Meg was the one who felt sorry. She knew how difficult it had been for him to give her such a small token.

"Fraser, " Meg caught him after he'd turned again to leave. "I once had a secret admirer, in college, they would leave such things by my dorm room door." she stepped around the desk, toward him, a mischievous twinkle in her dark eyes. Her heart swelled when she saw the light of understanding in his light eyes.

"Ah, I see." Benton nodded. Meg smiled, nodding as well. She was trying to keep their relationship separate from the consulate. That he understood.

The lady Mountie winked at him then mouthed 'thank you' before returning to her paperwork. He knew she'd thank him properly after work.

_**Several weeks later ….**_

"Ms. Thatcher, as a fertility expert, I can say that the chances of your being pregnant are a hundred to one, but here you are, expecting." Dr. Milton, an older man with gray hair and thick glasses smiled at her as he told her the test results.

"Is it the in vitro or," Meg paused, embarrassed. "or my recent activities?" She finished.

"No, the in vitro was a complete failure, your pregnancy is the result of your _'recent activities'_." The doctor threw his hands up in dismay.

"Thank you, Dr. Milton." Meg threw her arms around the old man as she stood up to leave the office. Her exuberance took him by surprise.

"Hold on, Ms. Thatcher, there are some things we need to discuss." The doctor laid a hand on Meg's shoulder, turning her around gently. The lady Mountie's face fell as she saw the look of concern in his eyes.

_**TYKTYK**_

Meg took a cab back to the consulate, her mind reeling with both good and bad news. She had to tell Fraser both, she owed it to him. Meg knew he'd support her however he could through this.

"Good day, Inspector Thatcher, how are you?" Constable Turnbull asked the depleted woman as she entered the building. He could tell something was wrong but dared not pry.

Meg looked up at her junior officer, the truth hanging in her throat. Her eyes were hollow as she gazed up at the fair Mountie.

"Where's Fraser?" she finally asked.

"Constable Fraser is out at the moment, should I call the twenty-seventh precinct to see if he's there?" Turnbull offered.

"No, no thank you, I'll do it myself." Meg turned to walk in her office, her shoulders slumped and her feet feeling like they were tied to cement blocks. She went into her office and locked the door behind her.

A few hours later Fraser came back to the consulate, whistling as he walked down the entrance hall. He tapped on Meg's door and heard her get up from her desk and unlock the door. Ben stopped whistling when he saw the devastated expression on Meg's face.

"What's wrong?" He stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

"I'm pregnant, Ben." Meg whispered, swallowing hard to keep from sobbing.

"That's wonderful, that's what you wanted." Ben pulled her into a hug.

"There are complications, Ben, the baby might not make it to term." Meg pushed away from him, laying a hand on her stomach.

"Why?" Ben asked, puzzled. Through her tears, Meg tried to explain.

"What have I done wrong, Ben, why can't I have this?" She sobbed, leaning against his chest.

"There's nothing wrong with you." Ben took her by the shoulders and gently shook her, making her look at him.

"I'm scared, Ben." Meg wiped her face with the back of her hand as she leaned against him. He took her into a hug, pressing her body against his to comfort her.

"This will be our miracle child." Ben didn't know what else to say. Part of him was overjoyed while part of him was terrified, both because he was going to be a father and both for fear he'd lose one or both of them.

"I pray you're right." Meg took a deep breath and tried to regain control. She didn't want to regain control though. For once she wanted to let herself break down and feel something.

"You once stated that I had the annoying habit of being right." Fraser tried to make Meg smile. She chuckled, her shoulders moving against his embrace.

"When we first met I didn't think you had a sense of humor." Meg pulled away, needing to wipe her face before she left a trail of mascara on Fraser's red tunic.

"I'm actually rather easily amused by others, however I've never quite caught on to telling jokes myself." Fraser fished a hanky out of his pocket and handed it to Meg. She took it, a half smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.

"Oh, Ben, how can you be so calm and strong?" Meg put her arms around his neck and tip toed up to kiss his cheek.

"I'm neither actually." He let his hands slide down her arms as he pressed a kiss against her forehead. They stood that way for a while before Meg pulled away reluctantly.

"I think I'll go back to my apartment, the doctor said I should rest as much as possible." The lady Mountie wiped her face again and tucked Ben's hanky into her slacks pocket.

"Should I accompany you?" The Mountie offered, thinking over what had to be done around the consulate for the day.

"No, I'll be fine, I just want to be alone for a while, maybe call my parents later." Meg shrugged, tired suddenly.

"I'll drop by after my shift, if that's alright." Ben looked to her for permission.

"That would be fine, Ben, take your time." Meg smiled, her eyes still sad and red from crying.

_**Hours Later ….**_

A tap at the door interrupted Meg as she sat curled up on her sofa reading a Harlequin romance novel. Quickly, she shoved it under the sofa and got up to answer the door.

"Hello, Ben, come in." Meg stepped away from the door and returned to her seat on the couch.

"Hello, Meg, you appear well rested." He stepped nervously into the small room, his hat in one hand as he closed the door with the other.

"I did indeed take a nap this afternoon." She peered up at him as he stepped slowly across the living room to take a seat on the sofa beside her. Their relationship had taken a one hundred and eighty degree turn since the night they'd spent together. Meg was still Inspector Thatcher in every since of her rank and position. She'd become more comfortable though. Gone were the days of pettiness and cold stares. Meg's mask was no where to be seen. Fraser was glad. Now he and Turnbull had equal sentry duty hours as well and Meg picked up her own dry cleaning these days.

"Have you spoken with your parents yet?" Ben set his hat carefully on the coffee table at his feet.

"Yes, I talked to Mom, she's overjoyed, Dad's excited too. I couldn't bear to tell them about the complications." She'd already told them about her relationship with Fraser. They'd come to the decision together that they'd be up front with their superiors in Ottawa as well as their friends. Ray had thought it was a colossal joke while Frannie had smiled weakly before finding an excuse to leave. Lt. Welsh had clapped the Mountie on the back and congratulated him.

"Are you afraid of their reaction to the news?" Ben turned to look at her, his green eyes intense.

"Yes, in a way, I guess I felt so sad that I didn't want to make them sad as well." Meg sighed, pulling her feet beneath her as she met Ben's gaze. He loved the way she curled up like a contented cat on the sofa.

"You do plan on telling your parents the doctor's prognosis?" He asked, concern shining through his beautiful eyes.

"Yes, Ben, I'm going to tell them, in a day or two. I just want to get adjusted to the idea of everything for myself." Meg pursed her lips and flashed an exasperated blaze at him.

"I see." Ben backed off. He'd seen that expression enough to know what she'd say next if he persisted.

"What are your thoughts, Ben, I know you weren't prepared to be a father." Meg asked, rather nervous. She'd felt relieved when she told him and he'd said it was wonderful. Ben's excitement took some of the worry out of her.

"From my past observations, no one is prepared for parenthood, even if it were a planned pregnancy for us." He took Meg's hand, running his thumb over the back of her soft hand. The slow but radiant smile on Meg's face told him she'd heard the 'us', in his sentence.

"There's the maternal glow I've heard about." Ben winked at her playfully. Meg nudged his shoulder with her fist.

"It's not even two full months yet." She wrinkled her nose.

"I'm certain you'll be even more beautiful as the months progress." The Mountie pressed a soft kiss to the hand he still held. If it were anyone besides Ben the lady Mountie would have said he was lying but she knew he meant it wholeheartedly.

"I'm thinking about taking a leave of absence, I want to focus on the baby for a while." Meg laid her hand over her stomach, looking down at it.

"That's a wise idea." Ben laid his hand over hers. He wanted this baby as much as Meg did.

"There's a lot to be done before it arrives, find a two bedroom apartment, buy all the baby things." Meg sighed, pink and blue thought swirling around in her brain.

"I'll help as much as possible." Ben volunteered, meeting Meg's gaze.

"I know and that's one of the things I love about you." A slow smile spread across Meg's face. It was the first time she'd said anything of that magnitude. She watched as Ben's eyes widened and a joyous smile brightened his features.

"You love me?" He leaned forward, taking her hand.

"Yes, since the day you came into my office and told me you weren't going to change your uniform." Meg remembered that day vividly, the mixture of determination and yet respect in his eyes. Fraser tenderly kissed Meg and together they talked about their fears.

_**TYKTYKTYK**_


	16. Chapter 16 Proposal

_**The Consulate ….**_

Fraser stood looking out the window at the city, snow swirling around in the street. Meg walked silently into the hallway. When she saw the way he stood; so tall, broad shouldered, so confident, the lady Mountie stopped in her tracks. Ben ran one thumb over the other palm, his mind obviously a million miles away. Meg crept up in her stocking feet and slipped her hand into his.

"Hey, sentry duty is out there, not here in the hallway." She teased as Ben turned around. The humor in her eyes was a welcome sight. Ben was learning so much about her these days.

"Margaret, hello." He smiled, kissing her cheek.

"What were you thinking about?" She held his hand, enjoying the feeling of being near him.

"You and I." He answered simply, vaguely, his specialty.

"Oh, what about you and I?" Meg stepped closer, looking up at him with a flirty smile. Ben looked down into her warm, curious, brown eyes. She had fit so well against his side the night they spent together upstairs in the Princess Margaret Suite. Ben wanted to feel her there every night for the rest of his life.

"This," He fumbled in his pocket, finally pulling out the ring box he'd been carrying with him for weeks. Meg's eyes widened and she covered her mouth with one hand. Slowly, Ben sank down to one knee.

"Margaret, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?" He searched her face for an answer. Meg touched his face, also sinking down to her knees. Her heart soared, filled like a helium balloon.

"Yes, Ben, yes, yes, yes." She let him slip the ruby and diamond ring onto her left hand. He breathed a sigh of relief. Ben had been certain of his feelings but Meg had always been unpredictable.

"I hope you like it, red has always suited you." Ben took Meg's left hand and slipped the ring onto her ring finger.

"Ben, it's beautiful." She threw her arms around his neck, pressing her face into his chest. The closer she was to his heart the better he liked it. He rested his cheek against her silky hair.

"Red suits me, is that why you chose a ruby?" Meg asked, pulling away a fraction.

"Yes, I hope you will accept it as an engagement ring. I know traditionally they are a single diamond, although that hasn't always been the …." He trailed off as Meg put her hand gently over his mouth.

"Less talking, more kissing, Ben." She whispered, leaning in.

"Ah, happy to oblige." Their lips met for a lingering kiss. For a long moment afterward Meg stood with her arms around his waist, cheek pressed against Ben's heart, eyes closed. Ben leaned his cheek against her silky hair, enveloping her in a comfortable embrace. He could feel her body against his; soft, warm and so solid, just like their first kiss on the runaway train. Ben hadn't felt this tenderness for anyone. It was more than physical desire, although there was plenty of that, he felt the need for Meg at his side. She warmed him, chased away the loneliness.

"How long have you had the ring in your pocket, Ben?" Meg asked quietly, pulling back to look up at him.

"A few weeks, since the purse snatching." The Mountie answered, peering down at her, amazed at the depth of her brown eyes.

"Why didn't you ask sooner?" She persisted, her head cocked to one side. Ben caressed her cheek, his fingers stroking the soft hair at the back of her neck.

"I couldn't decide on the best way in which to ask." Ben admitted freely, there was no longer a need to hide his feelings or thoughts from Meg.

"I liked the way you did it, simply and sincerely." She wrapped her fingers around his lanyard and pulled him down for a quick kiss.

"We should call your mother." Ben suggested when she let loose of him.

"Yes, we definitely should, _after_ we go out to dinner to celebrate." She let a bubbly giggle out.

"Seven o'clock?" Ben asked, brows lifted.

"Seven is good, I'll have time to freshen up." It felt good to make a date with him. It felt good to be close to him without being anxious or awkward. Meg simply felt good.

"We have several things to talk about." Ben's smile faded a bit as he thought about the way their lives were about to change.

"I know, I've been thinking about that too." Meg laid a tentative hand on her still flat stomach. She couldn't wait to feel the baby in her arms. Already, she felt so much love it was unimaginable.

Ben laid his hand over hers, leaning down to press his forehead against Meg's. They'd made more than love that Friday night, they'd made magic, they'd made a miracle.

_**TYKTYKTYK**_


	17. Chapter 17 Mom

_**Meg's Apartment ….**_

Taking a leave of absence was more work than Meg had anticipated. There were a hundred kinds of forms to file, the wait for a response from Ottawa, and financial as well as medical arrangements to be seen to. Still, she was excited to start looking for a larger apartment, buying baby clothes and furniture.

The lady Mountie began her to-do list at the consulate, filling out paperwork. Fraser, or 'Benton', as she called him when Turnbull was out of earshot, dove into the paperwork as well; part of his 'fatherly duties'. Meg didn't mind. Gone was the awkwardness that had plagued them both for so long. Meg still caught herself stumbling over words when she lost her train of thought staring at him. The regular consulate work and the new paperwork kept them busy all day.

After his shift, Fraser went to the Twenty-seventh Precinct to catch up with Ray. He had cut down on his crime fighting with the American detective quite a bit since Meg had started the IVF process. Ben wondered if his friendship with Ray would change now that his life was changing.

"Hey, buddy, how's Thatcher?" Ray asked as the Mountie sat down in a metal chair across the desk from the laid back, blond detective. Dief took his usual spot out of the way beneath Ray's desk.

"Inspector Thatcher is doing quite well, she's with child." Fraser noted that Ray hadn't called her the 'Ice Queen' or any of his other unflattering names for Meg.

"That's great, I bet she's uh, she's happy as a clam." Ray sipped his coffee, scanning a file without the benefit of his prescription glasses.

"Yes, she's elated." Fraser hesitated to drop the bomb of the baby's paternity on the detective, especially after their conversation about marriage proposals.

"Are you free for lunch, Ray?" Fraser asked casually, hoping he would be.

"Not really, I got to go talk to, to, um, Victor Rifkin, about a case." Ray scanned the file for the name. Fraser looked around the bull pen. It was busy, as usual and he didn't want to talk in such a public place.

"May I accompany you, we can stop for a bite afterward." Fraser suggested. Dief perked up, coming around the desk, ready to leave.

"Yeah, I guess so, give me a minute to get this info." The detective wrote the address on a Dollar General Store receipt and stuffed it into his jeans pocket. He grabbed a Chicago Bears jacket and waited for Fraser to retrieve his Stetson.

"You got somethin' on your mind, buddy, you seem tense er somethin'." Ray asked as he and Fraser walked toward the exit and into afternoon foot traffic. The Mountie just nodded, still reluctant to talk. He waited until they were in the muddy colored Intrepid before coming clean.

"Inspector Thatcher's second round of IVF was unsuccessful." Ben began, his gaze on traffic beyond.

"Then how's she pregnant, far as I know there's only been one immaculate conception." Ray pointed out, zigging and zagging through traffic, taking the speed limit as a suggestion.

"Margaret was quite upset after Dr. Milton told her the process had been a failure. She came back to the consulate late that evening …." Ray slowed the car down, holding up traffic.

"Whoa, buddy, you tellin' me you and Thatcher done the dirty?" Ray asked incredulously, pulling the car over to the shoulder of the road.

"That's not exactly the term I would apply to the events of that night." Fraser turned in his seat to look at his friend. Dief lay in the back, wondering when lunch would show up.

"You're the father of Thatcher's kid then?" Ray still couldn't wrap his mind around the idea of Ben as a daddy.

"Yes, I am." Fraser admitted, a content smile spreading. Cars began honking their horns as other cars swerved to avoid the Intrepid.

"Congrats, Fraser." Ray shook his hand, still shaking his head. "Is Thatcher's okay with you as the father, I thought she'd have some fancy pants, Einstein donor lined up."

"I believe Margaret is relieved, this way the child will have a father figure to look up to. I intend to be an active participant in raising the child." Fraser said in all seriousness.

"She let's you call her 'Margaret'?" Ray laughed. He couldn't imagine her being called anything other than 'Inspector Thatcher'.

"That is her name, Ray." Fraser deadpanned. Dief rolled his eyes, growing impatient for lunch.

"You gonna marry her?" Ray checked his side mirrors for traffic and pulled back onto the pavement.

"Yes, I proposed yesterday afternoon and she said yes." Fraser stated matter-of-factly.

"How'd you do it?" Ray wondered, curious to know.

"I was standing at the window looking at the street outside the consulate when Margaret came up behind me. She asked me what I was thinking and the proposal just came of its own accord." Ben talked with his hands as he rode.

"Just like that, you popped the question?" Ray marveled.

"Yes, Ray, just like that." The Mountie didn't see it as any sort of mystery.

"Congrats buddy, you're doin' pretty good. You two set a date er anything?" Ray could just see the wedding, everyone in uniform, a Canadian flag cake, a whole rigmarole.

"No, not as yet, but I think the wedding will be soon, probably before the baby's born."

"I guess you and me'll have to cut out the adventurin so much, eh?" Ray shook his head.

"I don't want our partnership to be affected but I don't see any way around it, Ray, I now have other responsibilities." Fraser studied his friend for a moment as they sat in line at a red light.

"I know, buddy, I used to have one out of two of those same responsibilities." Ray avoided mentioning his ex-wife, ADA Stella Kowalski. His time with her had been some of the best as well as some of the worst days of his life. He still loved her.

"Would you be my best man, Ray?" Fraser asked, changing the direction of the subject.

"I'd be glad to, Fraser, I get to plan the bachelor party." A plum assignment he could sink his teeth into.

Fraser didn't know if he liked the sound of that or not. He had recently learned of American bachelor party traditions such as strip clubs and massive amounts of alcohol, neither of which he wanted any part of.

"Don't worry, buddy, I was thinking a poker game, maybe some pizza and a few beers, nothin' that'll get you in trouble with the little woman." Ray snickered, thinking of the short leash Thatcher already kept him on.

"Yes, that sounds very enjoyable, but we'll be playing for match sticks or candy of course." The Mountie in him just couldn't break Illinois state gambling laws.

"Yeah, I guess." Ray groused, feeling defeated.

"Good, as soon as Margaret and I set the wedding date you can send out the invitations." Ray only rolled his eyes, planning a strictly word of mouth kind of bachelor party at his apartment.

_**TYKTYKTYK**_

Meg stuffed the unfinished paperwork in her briefcase and gathered her things to go home. She was tired of jumping through hoops for a leave of absence.

"Constable Turnbull, I'm leaving for the evening, it's time you should as well." The lady Inspector stopped by the junior Mountie's desk in the entrance. He looked up from organizing the consulate Rolodex, his eyes bloodshot from eye strain.

"Yes, Sir, I'll leave as soon as I get through the J's, it won't take two shakes of a lamb's tail." He assured her effervescently.

"Alright, but leave the rest, it will be right there tomorrow." Meg slid into her jacket and headed toward the front door. She was glad to be leaving for the day.

"Good evening, Inspector." Turnbull wished her, waving when she turned back.

"Good night, Constable Turnbull." She smiled, shaking her head at his guileless manner.

As soon as Meg arrived at her apartment the phone began ringing. She dumped her coat and brief case on the couch before snatching it up.

"Hello." The Inspector slipped out of her pumps and began unbuttoning her jacket.

"Hi, Sweetie, how are you?" Mrs. Thatcher asked cheerfully.

"I'm fine, Mom, I was just about to call you, I've got some good news." Meg sat down in her armchair, curling up like a cat.

"Oh, do tell." Mrs. Thatcher prompted.

"There's two things, first I'm pregnant." Meg waited for her mother to speak, hoping it would be something supportive.

"So the second round of IVF was successful." She at least sounded cheerful.

"Not exactly, Mom, Ben's the father." Meg said cautiously. She'd told her mother about her second-in-command and the way they felt about each other, just not that they'd actually slept together.

"Oh, your subordinate officer, isn't that against regulations?" Mrs. Thatcher asked, a bit confused.

"Yes, but Ben's been there for me through all of this, it took the in vitro process and the miscarriage for me to realize that I love him, that it's not just a crush or an infatuation. He loves me too, Mom." Meg sounded amazed at the revelation.

"Does he know you're pregnant?" Mrs. Thatcher asked, her tone unreadable through the phone.

"Yes, I told him as soon as I found out yesterday. He asked me to marry him this afternoon, and I said yes."

"That's great, Meg, I'm so happy for you." Meg released a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

"I want to fly down in a few days, I'd like to meet the man my daughter is marrying and the father of my grandchild." Mrs. Thatcher's mind began to spin, planning the next steps toward going to Chicago.

"That'd be great, Mom, let me know your schedule so I can come and pick you up at the air port." Meg and her mother talked for a while about the trip and the engagement ring. When they hung up, Meg felt even better, if possible. She'd been determined to have this child with or without her mother's approval, but it felt good to have it anyway.

_**TYKTYKTYK**_


	18. Chapter 18 Trying

_**Meg's Apartment …**_

Meg made dinner for herself and Benton. She wasn't unable to cook, just uninterested. The lady Mountie had stopped by the market and gathered the supplies to fix steak, baked potatoes and a salad for dinner. Everything was ready by seven o'clock when Benton arrived.

"Hello, come on in and have a seat." Meg greeted her fiance' with a smile, an bowl of salad in her hand.

"Would you like some help with dinner?" Benton set his Stetson on the coffee table before joining her in the kitchen.

"I'm almost finished, you can set the table though." Meg didn't mind letting him help in the least. She wanted to establish a fifty-fifty relationship early on.

Ben opened cabinets and drawers until he found everything he needed to set the table. It felt strange to be poking his nose into her space but he noticed that she didn't say anything.

"I hope you like you steak done, I wasn't sure how you wanted yours. I can't handle raw meat myself." Meg scrunched up her nose in disgust at the thought of raw steak, the middle still bubble gum pink.

"Well done is fine, thank you." Ben peeked over her shoulder at the steaks as she slid them out onto a serving platter.

"There's sour cream in the refrigerator if you'd like it on your baked potato, help yourself." Meg felt suddenly shy and awkward around him. She'd never really cooked for a man before.

Ben noticed Meg's nervousness as she stood at the stove. She hadn't been nervous at the consulate only a few hours before. He supposed she'd been in her comfort zone with him at the consulate. He didn't want to make things worse by saying anything so he laid a hand on her shoulder and pressed a quick kiss against her temple before making his way to the table.

"I guess we both have a lot to get used to." Meg carried the serving platter the few steps from her stove to the kitchen table and sat down across from Ben.

"Yes, it stands to reason, I've never lived with a woman before, well, there was my grandmother, and my own mother of course, but never a …." Fraser rattled on, his tongue working faster than his brain.

"Ben, would you like some salad?" Meg cut him off gently, offering him some of the hand tossed salad she'd fixed for them.

"Yes, thank you." He held out his dinner plate for her.

"Have you given any thought to the wedding date?" Meg asked, serving Ben before herself.

"As soon as is convenient, hopefully within the next six weeks." The Mountie tried to calculate just when Meg's baby bulge would begin showing.

"Who is on your guest list, I put mine together already." The lady Mountie had given the whole affair far more thought than she knew Ben had.

"That is a dilemma, the bulk of my family is deceased." Ben tried to think of who would be appropriate to invite.

"There's Ray and his family, or families to be more precise, perhaps Sgt. Frobisher could fly down." Meg suggested hopefully. She'd only met Buck Frobisher briefly, during the Musical Ride fiasco. She hoped meeting him again wouldn't be as adventurous as the train ride.

"Yes, he was my father's oldest friend, I'll telephone him tomorrow. I'll put together a complete list later this evening." Ben's mind began compiling a list as he expertly cut his steak, done to perfection.

"I talked to my mother this afternoon, she's coming down in a few days to meet you, she's excited about the baby and our engagement." Meg laid her fork down, her brown eyes shining as she took Ben's hand. For a moment he had the deer in the headlights expression Meg had seen before.

"Don't worry, Benton, she's not going to eat you alive." Meg laughed. "Not all mothers-in-law hate their daughters' husbands, I promise."

"Yes, let's hope so." Ben gave her a smile in return.

The pair returned to their meal, talking over a few things from the consulate. After dinner they settled down on the couch with cups of tea.

"I spoke to Ray this afternoon, he's agreed to serve as my best man at the wedding." Ben edged into the subject of the bachelor party. "He's offered to plan my bachelor party." Meg turned on him, her dark eyes glinting with suspicion.

"He mentioned having pizza and a poker game, for candy of course." Ben rushed to explain before Meg could ask any questions.

"That sounds innocuous enough." Meg relaxed. Still, her Mountie senses were tingling. She didn't quite trust Ray to plan a kid's party for Ben.

"Perhaps Francesca Vecchio would host a bachelorette party in your honor." Ben tried to shift the subject away from himself.

"I was thinking of having a baby shower actually, to get ready for our little one." Meg laid her hand over her still flat stomach. It amazed her how something that started out so small could make such big changes in her life. Ben laid his free hand over hers, capturing her fingers.

"Our little one." He repeated softly.

_**The Next Day ….**_

Meg had finally finished all the paperwork for her leave of absence. There would be someone from Ottawa coming in a few weeks as her replacement. Until then there was still plenty of work to be done; planning the wedding and finding a larger apartment. Benton too had several things to do, such as calling Buck Frobisher.

"Hello, is Sergeant Frobisher available, this is Constable Benton Fraser." Ben asked the young officer on the other end of the line. After a moment Buck answered.

"Hello, Benton, it's been a while, how are you?" Buck asked, glad to hear from the younger man.

"I'm fine, Sir, I was just calling to share my good news, I'm getting married." Benton hadn't said the words out loud yet.

"I bet I know who the lucky girl is, it's that Inspector isn't it?" Benton could just see Buck shaking his head.

"Yes, Sir, it is actually, Margaret and I are getting married quite soon, I was wondering if you'd like to come to the wedding?" Benton asked, hoping he'd say yes.

"You let me know the day and I'll be there with bells on, Benton. I was your father's best friend for nearly forty years and I know he'd want me to be there since he can't, unless he can, you know what I mean?" Buck asked. Strangely enough, Benton did know what he meant. His father's ghost had come along for the runaway train ride. It had been weeks since he'd seen the old ghost.

"Margaret and I are also expecting our first child." Benton changed the subject.

"You always were a fast worker, Benton. Congratulations again." Buck marveled. He'd known on the train that Benton and the Inspector had more than a professional relationship, even if neither of them could see it or would admit it.

"Thank you, Sir." Benton and Buck talked for a few more minutes, the younger Mountie promising to send him an invitation soon.

"Hey, Fraser." Margaret tapped on his office door, smiling. A bright smile spread over his face as well.

"I just spoke to Buck Frobisher, he'd be delighted to attend our wedding." Ben stood up to give Margaret his chair behind the desk. She shook her head but saw the stubborn glint in his eye that meant he'd argue if she refused to take his seat. Part of her was thrilled at being treated like his princess.

"That reminds me, we need to set the date." Margaret laid the planner she'd carried in on the desk blotter and motioned for Benton to come around and look.

"I assume you'd like the ceremony to take place as soon as possible." Ben laid his hand on the back of the desk chair as he leaned over the desk beside Meg.

"Yes, it won't be long before the baby makes his or her self known, besides, I'd like to get settled before labor begins." Meg tilted her head back to look up at him.

"One month from now would be an ideal date, it would give us two weeks after Inspector Perry arrives to plan the event." Ben flipped the page over to see what Meg had planned.

"I agree, I wish I didn't have to take a leave of absence but Dr. Milton was clear that this was a high risk pregnancy." The lady Mountie didn't like to think of having another miscarriage. She wanted a baby, especially Benton's baby, so badly.

Ben laid a reassuring hand on her back, the warmth easing her tension. He didn't want to think of losing the baby either, or just as bad, losing Meg. If she lost the baby it would be both physically and emotionally devastating to her.

"Have you been able to get an obstetrician's appointment yet?" Ben asked, knowing she dreaded going to the doctor again so soon.

"Yes, my gynecologist referred me to Dr. Keith, she's in the same building, I have an appointment for day after tomorrow." Meg answered, referring to a block on the previous page of her monthly planner.

"I'd like to go, if you're agreeable." Benton offered, searching Meg's face for a reaction. She took his hand off the blotter and held it in both of hers, nodding.

"We should tell Turnbull about what's going on, this afternoon." Margaret dreaded telling her junior officer.

"I agree, we've waited too long as it is." Benton sighed, knowing he couldn't leave this chore for Meg to do alone.

"I'll call when he arrives, we'll have a meeting in my office." Meg stood up to leave, there was still a forest's worth of paperwork to keep her busy.

Ben caught her hand, stepping closer when she stopped. "Come here." He whispered, pulling her into a warm embrace. He wasn't overly affectionate but when he was, Meg felt every bit of the love he had for her. It was in his voice, his words, his kiss, the way he held her, even the way he watched her as she worked. Meg had never felt so loved by anyone.

"I love you." Ben whispered as he laid his cheek against her silky hair.

"I love you too." Meg sighed, her troubles gone for a moment as she stood there enjoying Ben's hug. She didn't want to let go, she wanted to freeze the perfect moment and live in it forever.

A tuneless whistle brought Ben and Meg back to reality. They broke apart a split second before Ray walked up to Fraser's office door.

"Hey, there's the happy couple." The blond detective grinned devilishly.

"Good afternoon, Ray, what brings you to the consulate?" Fraser asked, adjusting his red serge.

"Just thought I'd drop by and take you out to lunch, I'd ask you but ….." Ray trailed off, quitting while he was ahead with Meg.

"Male bonding, I understand." Meg looked from Ben to the detective and back again.

"Would you like anything while I'm gone?" Ben offered, taking Meg's elbow gently.

"No, I'll be fine, thanks." She shrugged.

"Are you certain, you've been craving peaches lately." Ben asked again.

"No, I'm fine, I brought a couple in my purse this morning." Meg answered.

"I could bring you an assortment of jelly beans, you like those." The expectant father persisted.

"I also have a bag of those in my purse, now go." Meg shooed him, edging toward her 'Inspector' voice.

"Perhaps I should stay until Constable Turnbull arrives from lunch." Ben frowned, hating to leave her alone even for a moment. He remembered all too well how he'd found Meg on the floor of her office.

"Benton Fraser, _**go**_, I'll be fine, Turnbull will be back any moment." Meg growled, annoyed on one hand but pleased that Ben cared so much.

"Come on, buddy, I gotta get back to the precinct sometime before dark." Ray urged, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

"Call Ray's cell if you should need anything, Margaret." Ben took a deep breath as he headed out the door toward the hall.

"I'll be fine, Benton." Meg shook her head, rolling her eyes as she watched them leave.

"Sheesh, buddy, I thought she'd keep you on a short leash but you're just a lap kitty aren't ya?" Ray teased as he opened the door.

"Ray!" Fraser's voice trailed off as the door closed behind them. Meg walked slowly to her office. She'd already accepted that loving Benton meant accepting his friends and his unofficial partner, as well as the wolf. He loved them so she tried to see the gang of the twenty-seventh precinct through his eyes. It would take some practice but Meg was trying.

_**TYKTYKTYK **_


	19. Chapter 19 Toes

_**A Few Days Later ….**_

Mrs. Thatcher's plane arrived at two o'clock on Friday afternoon. Meg drove to O'Hare Airport to pick her mother up herself. It was the first time Clara Thatcher had been to one of Meg's posts.

"Mom, here." Meg waved as she stood waiting for her mother at the gate.

"Nut Meg, there you are." Clara rushed over to her daughter and caught her up in a rib crushing embrace.

"Where's your husband/father- to- be?" The older woman asked as she and Meg headed toward the baggage claim.

"Benton had to attend to the consulate, I'm a bit understaffed." Meg explained.

"What are they going to do without you?" Clara found her bag on the carousel. Her dark hair fell across her cheek as she and Meg took the bag off and set it on the tile floor.

"Ottawa is sending a replacement in ten days so that I can take a leave of absence. The doctor said this was a high risk pregnancy." Meg explained carefully. She hated having to explain things to her mother. One sentence led to a hundred questions.

"Will you have to go back home if you aren't working at the consulate?" Clara asked in awe. The two women began making their way through the busy airport, toward Meg's car.

"No, I'll be marrying Benton." They talked about the wedding, the baby and moving to a new apartment as Meg drove them to the consulate.

Turnbull stood sentry duty when they arrived. The young Mountie didn't blink or give any indication of even living as Inspector Thatcher walked up the front steps, her mother trailing behind.

"I can't wait for you to meet Benton, I hope you two get along." Meg opened the door to find her fiance talking to Diefenbaker.

"No, you cannot have Ray's turtle as a pet, you're barely house trained as it is, besides, how would you clean it's aquarium?" Fraser admonished the white wolf.

"Fraser, were you just telling your wolf he couldn't have a pet?" Meg didn't know if she was incredulous or confused.

"Margaret, Mrs. Thatcher, hello." Benton avoided answering. He shook hands with the woman who barely looked five years older than Meg.

"Constable Fraser, a pleasure to meet you." Clara by passed his handshake and pulled him into a hug. The Mountie stood stock still. Meg nearly laughed out loud at his awkwardness.

"Mother, let me show you into my office." Meg interrupted, motioning Fraser in with them.

"Alright, sweetie." Clara let Fraser open the door for her.

"He's handsome." She whispered into her daughter's ear. When Meg looked back she saw the red hot blush rising up Benton's face as he looked away. All she could do was shrug and smile. Her mother was right.

"I've got a pot of fresh tea in the kitchen, would either of you care for some?" Fraser stood while Meg and her mother settled themselves on the couch.

"Yes, please." Meg answered, looking to her mother for an answer.

"That would be wonderful, thank you." Clara pulled a pair of glasses out of her sweater pocket and began running a cleaning cloth over the lenses. Fraser went on to kitchen, leaving them alone.

"I know you've told me the gist of how you became pregnant, but refresh my memory, Constable Fraser wasn't a sperm donor?" Clara tried to get her facts straight.

"No, Mother, I was upset after the second round of IVF failed, Benton comforted me, it just happened. Neither of us planned it that way." Meg explained again.

"I can see that you're more satisfied than I've seen you in a long while, he must be something very special." The stylish, fifty-something took her daughter's hand, smiling.

"He is, Mom, he's loved me through everything, and I gave him a rough way to go most of the time." Meg admitted, not that her mother didn't already know her daughter's strict, sometimes petty, manner.

"I'm glad you've found someone, sweetie." It was good to have Meg so happy.

"Here you are, ladies." Benton set the tea tray down laden with tea, milk, sugar, and Nutter Butter cookies.

"Lovely. Now, Constable Fraser, tell me all about yourself." Clara motioned for him to take a seat across the coffee table from her.

"Please, call me 'Benton'. I first came to Chicago on the trail of the men responsible for my father's death …." Meg winced when she heard the familiar story's beginning. Her mother's eye glazed over about the time Ben started talking about the time he and Ray Vecchio had stopped a group of bank robbers, one of them being a woman he would see again when they were locked in a bank vault and nearly drowned.

"Ben, the phone is ringing, would you care to answer it?" Meg re-directed him at the first opportunity. Once he was out of ear shot, Clara turned to her daughter.

"Does he always talk so much?" she shook her head, amazed at the length of Fraser's narrative.

"No, only when you ask him about how he came to Chicago." Meg leaned back, nibbling a Nutter Butter.

"Oh, I didn't know I would be opening the flood gates." Clara shifted, wishing she could get out of her dress shoes and into her fluffy house shoes.

"Ben actually doesn't talk all that much, but what he does say has an impact." Meg stated, her voice dreamy as she sipped her tea.

"Meg, if it wouldn't be too much trouble, do you think you could take me to your apartment so that I can rest a while before dinner?" Clara slipped her feet out of her shoes and wiggled her toes. She'd been gussied up far too long to suit her. The Mountie's mother didn't know how her daughter withstood eight, long hours in a business ensemble and heels.

"Sure, as soon as Ben gets back I'll take the afternoon off, my feet are tired too." Meg slipped out of her shoes and wiggled her toes beside her mother's. When Ben walked back into the office he saw both women stretching their bare feet out before them.

"Oh dear." He turned and went back out into the hallway, blush flooding his face. Meg and Clara both burst out laughing, tears running down their cheeks.

"He really is something, sweetie." Clara pulled a handkerchief out of her sweater sleeve and dabbed at her eyes.

"Yeah, now if I could just figure out what." Meg's shoulders quaked with laughter as tears ran in sooty trails down her cheeks from her mascara.

_**TYK-TYK-TYK**_


	20. Chapter 20 Bachelor Party

_**Ray's Apartment ….**_

Ray had spent all Friday afternoon cleaning his apartment for Fraser's bachelor party. He and Huey had gone to the grocery and bought man food; chips, dip, a selection of lunch meats, and had

pre-ordered enough pizza for a small army. It was less than twenty-four hours until the wedding and there had been little time to plan a proper party. Lieutenant Welsh had pulled a few strings with an old friend and got Ben and Meg a realtor to find an apartment. There had been obstetrician's appointments, moving, wedding plans, and a million other things to be done before the big day. Turnbull had been helping in his off time, taking care of the invitations, chapel reservations, flowers, reception hall reservations, and catering. Meg didn't know how she would have managed without the junior Mountie. His days as her secretary had come in handy.

About six o'clock Saturday night the guys from the precinct began drifting in to Ray's apartment. He had set up a poker table complete with plastic chips, no money attached of course. He and Huey had laid in a variety of both alcoholic and nonalcoholic beverages for the guys. Lieutenant Welsh had agreed to pick Fraser up on his way to the party.

"Fraser, come on, it's beer and pizza with the guys, not a black tie shin dig." Welsh urged the Mountie as he stood in the door way of Fraser's office.

"Understood Leftenant." Benton pronounced the rank with his usual, Mountie eccentricity. Diefenbaker danced around, the scent of excitement rolling off the older human promised treats. A moment later Ben had collected his Stetson and slipped into his leather bomber jacket and they were on their way to Ray's.

_**TYKTYKTYK**_

A half dozen or so people had gathered at the replacement detective's apartment expecting a toned down party, it was for Fraser after all. Most of them stood with a cup of something to drink and a slice of pizza freshly delivered from _Giovanni's Pizza_, the best delivery place for blocks around. An excited wolf announced Welsh and Fraser's arrival.

"Hey guys, who's dealing stud?" Welsh said as he found his way to the sausage pizza box.

"Hi, Sir, we were waitin' for you all to get here." Ray closed the door behind them.

"Is everyone here?" Welsh slid out of his jacket as he held his pizza in his free hand.

"Constable Turnbull was to attend, it appears he hasn't arrived yet." Fraser pointed out. The Mountie took a paper plate and a slice of pizza and then rummaged around until he found a ginger ale in Ray's refrigerator.

"Ah, come on, let's get started, Turnbull probably doesn't even play poker, he won't miss anything." Huey took a sip of his drink and walked over to the round table taking up most of Ray's living area.

"Alright, I'll deal." Welsh took a seat first, opening up a brand new deck of cards. His stubby fingers moved with liquid grace as he began dealing. Fraser was impressed as he stood on the outer rim of guys at the table.

"Hello everyone." Turnbull's bright voice broke into the bantering around the poker table. The junior Mountie held a plastic bowl full of cookies of different kinds. A few of the guys traded disappointed looks.

"Come on in, Turnbull, we were just getting started." Huey tossed a five dollar chip of imaginary money into the pile growing in the middle of the table. The African American detective pulled a cigar from his shirt pocket and drew the length beneath his nose, savoring the rich scent.

"Thank you, Detective Huey, I believe I'll eat first." The blond Mountie found a paper plate, greeting a few of the detectives as he helped himself to the food on the kitchen counter. He too found a ginger ale in Ray's refrigerator.

The evening progressed, some of the guys watching sports on Ray's television while they waited for someone to fold their poker hand and quit the game for a while. Detective Dewey quit pretty early on, too interested in telling stories of other bachelor parties he'd been part of to play properly. At eleven o'clock a knock on the door interrupted a serious game between Fraser, Welsh, Ray and two beat cops. Dewey opened the front door.

"Hey handsome, can we come in?" A buxom blonde purred as she sashayed into Ray's apartment. A red head and a brunette followed, all three dressed in cop outfits that showed far more than their badges. One of them carried a battery powered CD player blaring an old disco tune turned up full blast.

"I'm here to arrest Benton Fraser." The blonde said, pulling a pair of handcuffs from between her surgically enhanced breasts.

"Ah, which department are you with, Miss?" Fraser stood up, bewildered.

"I'm Miss Behavin', and I'm here to take you in." The blonde introduced herself, edging toward the Mountie on six inch, black heels.

"I believe there's been a misunderstanding." Benton began edging backward.

"Hey ladies, thanks for clearing your schedules for this." Dewey called as the redhead began ruffling his hair.

"Anything for you, Darling Dewey." The woman pouted her fire engine red lips as she toyed with his shirt buttons.

"Dewey, I told you not to do this, get 'em outta here." Ray folded his cards and stood up to try and peel the blonde off Fraser. She'd cornered him in the kitchen to where the poor Mountie was climbing onto the bar, trying to make his way back to the living room, his face beet red.

"Ah, come on, it's a bachelor party for cryin out loud, there's gotta be girls or it ain't normal." Dewey argued, his voice whiny as the red head began pulling his shirt out of his pants.

"It was just supposed to be poker and pizza." Ray was hot under the collar about having his party upstaged. Strangling Dewey seemed like a better and better idea the more he contemplated it.

The brunette dancer had took hold of Turnbull, chasing him around the kitchen and into the bathroom where he took refuge in the shower stall.

"I just love the way your eyes stand out, kinda like diamonds." She purred, edging closer as Turnbull tried to hold the shower curtain between them.

"I dated a Canadian once, a hockey player actually, he wasn't very good in bed." She reached around the shower curtain, slapping a pair of old fashioned manacles onto the junior Mountie's wrist, the other end clamped down on her own arm.

"Miss, I don't know what you think is going on here, but I can assure you, this isn't my bachelor party, it's for Constable Fraser." Turnbull let her drag him out into the bathroom floor, the shower curtain pulled halfway off it's rings.

"I don't care if it's for the mayor, I'd like to get to know you better, get me a piece of that Canadian bacon." She drew one long, red fingernail down his cheek as she pushed him up against the bathroom door. Turnbull turned as pale as clean toilet paper, swallowing hard as she pressed against him.

"That's very flattering but I just not, uh, not, well you see, I don't believe you and I have very much in common, it just wouldn't work out. I'm sure you're a lovely," He paused, making sure it was a woman. "A very lovely young woman, any gentleman would be lucky to receive your, your attention." The Mountie fumbled, trying to let her down easy, wishing she would let him out of the small space.

"Come outta there, we're sendin the three of yous back to where ever you came from." Ray shouted as he tried to open the bathroom door. The junior Mountie squirmed away as far as he could, the manacle clamped down on his captor's wrist. Black leather lacing had been woven through the medal links.

"Turnbull, come on, get out of those and let the lady get on her way." Ray shooed them out of his bathroom and into the living room. The place looked like a disaster area. Popcorn lay strewn on the rug and a big beer stain on the couch. Ray was not a happy camper. The party had been going fine until Dewey's surprise blew in like triplet tornadoes. Two out of three of them stood in the living room, mad as hornets and feeling insulted.

Turnbull began trying to get the manacle off his right hand, to no avail. The lock was firmly latched, unmoving.

"Miss, would you please give me the key?" Turnbull turned to the young woman. She stood beside him, her free hand on her hip, her uniform blouse unbuttoned to her waist, a red bra showcasing her assets.

"Miss, please, my I have the keys?" He asked again, pulling on the medal tie between them.

"Yeah, yeah, give me a minute." The brunette began digging in the pockets of her uniform pants but came up with lint. "I thought Mounties weren't supposed to be wimpy." She muttered as she tried a second time.

"Diana, have you got the keys to these things?" The blonde began digging in her pockets as well.

"No, Sparks, I don't." She shrugged.

"What about you, Neo?" The brunette, Sparks, asked the red head. The dancer in question also searched her pockets, as well as her bra.

"Nope, all I got is the keys to mine, you want to try 'em?" Neo tossed the keys toward Turnbull. Sparks shoved the small, medal key into the lock at her wrist and began trying to unlock the manacles.

"Here, you try." After a few, unsuccessful attempts she handed the keys to Turnbull. The junior Mountie stuck the key in his lock as well, but it didn't move.

"Oh dear." Turnbull muttered as he turned to Fraser for help. A few of the other guests began laughing at the lanky Mountie's predicament.

"Allow me." Fraser stepped forward.

"Alright guys, party's over, time to go on home." Ray began ushering the guys out of the apartment. "Except you, Dewey, you're stayin til Turnbull gets out of those things." The blond detective caught the other detective by the arm, turning him around to face him.

"Hey, what can I do about it, get a pair of bolt cutters or something." Dewey pulled away, throwing his arms up. Ray felt like kicking him in the head and in the ass for good measure.

"I don't have a pair, do you, Dewey?" Ray stood with his hands on his hips.

"Let me know if you need anything." Lt. Welsh said as he found his jacket and grabbed one, last piece of pizza on the way out the door.

"Yeah, thanks, Sir." Ray waved at his commanding officer as he turned his attention back to Dewey and the problem at hand.

Fraser tried the key Diana had tossed to Sparks but it wasn't the right one. The one needed for the manacles was an older key.

"I'm afraid these are locked until we can either cut them off or pick the lock." Fraser handed Sparks back the keys. Her two friends waited on the couch, flipping through Ray's basic cable channels.

"Greatness, where can we get a pair of bolt cutters, it's like, the middle of the night." Ray checked his watch, noting the late hour.

"Perhaps one of your neighbors has a pair they wouldn't mind lending you, Ray." Fraser offered, trying to think if there happened to be a pair at the consulate.

"Fraser, the only reason people have bolt cutters is for work or breakin an enterin." The off duty detective scoffed.

"Isn't one of your neighbors a plumber?" Fraser persisted, examining the fasteners.

"I gotta sit down, these shoes are killers." Sparks pulled both Mounties over to the poker table and plopped herself down in a chair, forcing Turnbull to pull one up beside her.

"Yeah, Jake's a plumber, but his wife threw him out three days ago, he's gone to Wisconsin to stay with his brother." This wasn't the bachelor party Ray had planned at all. He wouldn't have minded a few dancing girls but he knew Fraser didn't go in for that sort of thing. Instead he'd wanted to have a relaxing evening spending time with their friends.

"That is unfortunate." Fraser sat back in the kitchen chair he'd pulled up.

"All the hardware stores are closed at this hour." Turnbull shook his head, wishing he were standing sentry duty or alphabetizing Inspector Thatcher's Rolodex, anything but being shackled to a suggestively clad woman.

"Can't one of you pick the lock 'er somethin', don't that teach that at Mountie school?" Ray ran his fingers through his spiked hair.

"I could attempt to pick the lock, though it has been quite a while since I've had to do such a thing. As a raw recruit I once had to …." No one was listening, except Turnbull.

"Call the fire department, don't they do that sort of thing?" Dewey suggested, leaning on the counter drinking a bottle of beer.

"Oh dear, there's no need for such drastic measures, is there, Constable Fraser?" Turnbull's light eyes were wide and frightened. What would people think if they were to see him cuffed to a dancing girl?

"We'll save that as a last resort, Ray, if you wouldn't mind, would you fetch me your toolbox from the front closet?" Fraser turned to his unofficial partner. He knew he'd have to get the cuffs off before long, he had a wedding to attend in less than twelve hours.

"Yeah, sure." Ray dug in the bottom of his coat closet until he came up with the red, metal box.

"That's where that went to." He muttered, tossing a fishing reel out of the way. A moment later he set the toolbox on one of the kitchen chairs for the Mountie to work from.

_**Dawn ….**_

Diana and Neo had gone home around two in the morning, both of them had day jobs. Dewey begged off, saying he had to get some sleep and get ready for the wedding in a few hours. Finally, it was down to Ray, Fraser, Turnbull and Sparks trying to get the manacles unlocked. Sparks laid over on the table and managed to get some sleep, her long, brunette locks falling over her face, hiding the dim light of Ray's overhead kitchen light.

"I'm afraid it's necessary to call the fire department, Turnbull, I simply can't pick the lock." Fraser laid the tools he'd been working with back in the box, running his thumbnail over his left brow.

"Firemen?" Sparks roused out of her doze at the mention of stereotypically attractive men.

"I have to be at the airport at eight o'clock to pick up Minister Browner." Turnbull whines, wishing for the thousandth time he'd stayed at home.

"My boyfriend's gonna kill me, I was supposed to meet him after work last night." Sparks grumbled, trying to cross her arms, jerking Turnbull's arm across the table.

"Looks like you'll be attendin the weddin'." Ray quipped. He'd gathered up all the pizza plates, boxes, empty cups and bottles while he waited for Fraser to turn Turnbull loose.

"Oh dear, Inspector Thatcher will be sorely upset if I have to bring Miss Sparks with me today." Turnbull sat up straight in his chair.

_"Thatcher's gonna shit kittens when she sees this."_ Ray thought to himself, hiding a smirk behind a cup of coffee.

_"At least it wasn't me."_ Ben raised a relieved brow as he thought to himself.

"Maybe my boyfriend can get me out." Sparks sat up, "Hand me the phone will you?" She asked to no one in particular. Ray handed her the cordless, hoping it wasn't a long distance call.

"Hey Eddie, yeah, I'm fine, I just got caught up at work, can you bring a pair of bolt cutters to ..." she looked to Ray to provide his address.

"I'll call you on your cell if anything comes up." She hung the phone up and laid it on the table.

"I should be going, Margaret must be wondering where I am." Fraser stood, confident that Ray could handle the situation.

"What about Minister Browner?" Turnbull asked, yanking on the manacles.

"Don't worry, Dewey'll get him, he owes ya one." Ray assured the junior Mountie.

TYKTYKTYK


	21. Chapter 21 The Wedding

_**The Wedding Chapel …. **_

Lt. Welsh picked Fraser up at the consulate at ten o'clock as scheduled. The older officer wore a dark suit with a Canadian red tie. Even Diefenbaker wore a red collar for the occasion.

"Tell me again why you didn't stay at your new apartment with your fiancée?" Welsh asked, trying to grasp the Mountie logic.

"Wedding tradition holds that it is bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony." Ben answered, patting his pockets to make certain that he hadn't forgotten anything. "Her mother is staying with us until after the honeymoon, the apartment is rather crowded with Clara's luggage and the packing boxes." It was more like a general's war room than an apartment with Meg stressing over every detail. She was worse than usual.

After running down a mental check list, Ben lead the way out to Welsh's retired squad car, Dief on their heels. There would be wedding cake and he knew Fraser would be distracted. It was the old wolf's dream come true.

"What did she say when you told her that Dewey had hired dancing girls for the party last night?" Welsh would have loved to be a fly on that wall.

"I haven't told Margaret about last night's predicament, I assume Ray took care of things." Fraser answered confidently. All Welsh could do was shake his head, marveling at the Mountie's naiveté.

"Oh, Constable, you're a braver soul than I am, you should have told her." Welsh maneuvered through traffic toward the chapel.

"I suppose I should have, on second thought."

_**TYKTYKTYK**_

"Meg, dear, it's nine-thirty in the morning, what are you doing getting dressed, it's two hours before your ceremony?" Clara asked, sipping her coffee slowly. Meg had dragged her out of bed two hours earlier and hustled her to the chapel. The pregnant bride had been insufferable all week over it.

"I have to make certain that everything is just right for the wedding, I only plan on having one, I want to do it right, I want it to be something I can look back and remember with pride. It has to be beautiful, perfect." Meg pulled out the three ring binder she'd organized the wedding plans into. It was color coded, alphabetized, and tabbed, everything according to her plan.

"Did you plan on having any fun today?" Clara asked, checking her make-up in the reflection off of a gold wall sconce.

"There's time for fun _after_ the minister says 'I now pronounce you man and wife'." Meg waved her off, checking her garment list inside the notebook.

"Let me know if you need anything, otherwise you'll find me napping in one of the pews." Clara wandered off to find a quiet spot to doze.

_**Eleven O'clock …..**_

Guests began showing up at the historic chapel in downtown Chicago an hour before the ceremony. It wasn't a large place, that was fine, there weren't many guests. Stained glass windows illuminated the space with warm, mellow morning light. Antique white walls accented the myriad of colors as guest sat on oak pews covered in sky blue upholstery. Behind the pulpit stood the American Flag to the left and the Christian Flag to the right. Turnbull had draped a small, Canadian flag over the pulpit for the occasion. Meg peeked out at the gathering crowd from the room off to the side, near the entrance. The minister stood behind the pulpit, Fraser to the right and Meg's maid-of-honor, Patricia, to the left. Almost everyone was in place, all except Ray and Turnbull.

"Where's the best man, and where's Constable Turnbull?" Meg fussed, pulling on the white, lace gloves she wore with her simple gown.

"He'll be here, sweetheart, don't fuss, it isn't good for the baby." Clara patted her daughter's shoulder. Meg had always been tightly wound, especially when it concerned something she'd wanted for so long.

"Ben won't start the ceremony without his friend Ray and I need Turnbull to go ahead of the wedding party to make sure the reception room is ready." The lady Mountie adjusted her lace veil, wishing she hadn't insisted on wearing it.

"You've come this far, Nut Meg, everything will turn out just fine." Clara hugged her daughter, pulling her tight against her mauve and cream ensemble.

"Are you certain, Mom?" Meg asked, suddenly feeling unsure of everything.

"Most definitely, just relax." Clara reassured her, adjusting the pearls Meg wore, her grandmother's pearls.

"I hate to interrupt, but we have a problem." Francesca Vecchio said, sticking her head through the crack in the door.

"What do you mean, a problem?" Meg's dark eyes went wide and she paled a bit.

"Ray's here and he's got Turnbull, but Turnbull's handcuffed to a stripper." Frannie laid it out plainly. Tact was never one of her talents.

"A stripper?" Meg blinked, " Did you say stripper? Turnbull is handcuffed to a stripper?" She could have cried except that it had taken her an hour to put her make-up on.

"Yeah, Detective Dewey hired them to come to the bachelor party last night." Frannie explained, adjusting her fire engine red dress and pillbox hat.

"Don't they have the key, bolt cutters, anything?" Meg laid her fists on her hips, color returning to her face.

"I guess not." Frannie started edging back toward the door.

"I'll go see what's going on, wait just a minute." Clara pushed Frannie toward Meg and went out to see the situation for herself.

"While you're out there have Fraser come here." Meg demanded, her fists balling at her sides. He'd better have a good explanation for why he hadn't warned her about Turnbull she thought to herself.

"Inspector, I don't think that's a good idea." Frannie began, turning away from examining the white rose at her lapel. Meg turned on her, murder in her eyes.

"I think I'll go see what's taking them so long." The Civilian Aide volunteered.

A few minutes later the bride-to-be heard a tapping on the door.

"Margaret, it's me, Clara said you wished to speak to me." Ben opened the door only wide enough to speak through.

"Get in here." Meg demanded, her nerves frazzled.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Margaret." Ben answered reluctantly.

"And why not?" She volleyed back, her foot tapping as she waited on him to open the door.

"It's against tradition for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony." Ben listened to the silence on the other side of the door. He didn't know if silence were a good thing or a bad thing. He knew the answer as soon as the door flew open, nearly sucking him inside the small antechamber.

"That's superstitious poppycock, Constable Fraser." Meg took him by the hand an yanked him inside the room.

"Oh dear." Ben muttered, at both being called by rank and by seeing Meg in her wedding dress.

"Why didn't you tell me Constable Turnbull was handcuffed to a stripper?" Meg crossed her arms over the lace covered satin of her dress' bodice.

"Oh dear," Ben repeated, trying to frame his answer carefully. "I didn't know he still was still attached to the young lady. I assumed Ray had taken care of the problem." Ben answered honestly. He pulled at the collar of his red serge tunic then smoothed his left brow with his thumbnail.

"Never assume with Constable Turnbull, the man can barely function in the city." Meg shook her head, her dark eyes narrowed.

"There, disaster averted." Clara walked back into the antechamber with a satisfied smile.

"How did you get them apart, Mother?" Meg asked, relaxing a bit.

"I picked the lock, dear, just like your father taught me." The charming woman answered smugly. Fraser's brow shot up as his dark blue eyes widened.

"Meg hasn't told you anything about her father has she?" Clara turned to the Mountie.

"Mother, now is not the time to tell family stories." Meg's tone held a dire warning.

"You may as well tell him now, Meg, he'll just find out eventually anyway." Ms. Thatcher shrugged, oblivious to her daughter's pleading stare.

"Ben, my father was a circus performer known as 'The Incredible Lock Smith'." Meg admitted, wincing at the sound of her father's stage name.

"Harry was a rambunctious youth, picking locks to get into people's cars, lockers, that sort of thing. He was caught when he was fifteen stealing a stereo and did a summer in a juvenile offenders boot camp. He never stole another thing after that summer. Afterward he joined the circus, escaping out of locked trunks while covered in chains, that sort of thing. Harry was a good father and a good provider but the lifestyle never suited my Nut Meg." Clara explained.

"That must have provided your family a rare opportunity travel the country, to meet new and interesting people." Fraser looked from one Thatcher woman to the other.

"Hey, you all gonna get this show on the, er, on the road or what?" Ray shouted through the door, interrupting the three way stare.

"Shall we?" Fraser asked, rather glad for the change in subject. Meg just nodded. She didn't know why it was so embarrassing to admit her family's unusual history, Ben had been accepting and encouraging of everything so far.

_**TYKTYKTYK**_

The organist began playing the wedding march as soon as Fraser took his place at the altar. Beside him stood Ray, Turnbull and Buck Frobisher. When he looked down the line of men standing beside him he saw a familiar figure bringing up the rear, his father. The old Mountie waved and smiled. All Ben could do was nod.

When her cue came during the music Meg took her mother's arm and began the slow, sedate march down the aisle toward Ben. He stood tall and handsome in his dress reds, his blue eyes fixed on her shining face. They had come so far from the first time they'd met.

"Congratulations, sweetheart, you're going to be so happy together." Clara Thatcher let tears well in her dark eyes as she stepped in time with the music.

"Thanks, Mom, I hope so." Meg turned to her mother for a moment before they arrived at the altar.

"You look beautiful." Ben breathed as he took her hands in his. She mouthed a thank you before turning to the minister.

The ceremony went off without a hitch. Sparks sat in the back until someone could call her a cab later. Turnbull stood straight and true beside Fraser the whole time, holding Diefenbaker on a leash, just in case someone was afraid of dogs. Clara sat dutifully on the front row, tears streaming down her face as her little girl got married. Ray stood solemnly beside his best friend. Their relationship had already changed, not for the worse or the better, just different. Buck Frobisher stood proudly on the other side of Turnbull. He knew his oldest friend was standing beside him, watching as a father should. He only wished Caroline Fraser could be there to see her son and his new family.

"I wish she could be here too, old friend. Meg reminds me of my Caroline in a lot of ways. I hope Benton is as happy as she and I were." Robert Fraser leaned over to speak quietly to his long time friend.

"They will, Bob, I'll see to it." Buck agreed in a whisper.

"I now pronounce you man and wife." Minister Browner proclaimed. "You may now kiss the bride." It didn't have to be said twice. The newlyweds walked back down the aisle as Mr. and Mrs. Fraser. At the door their friends and family showered them with flower petals and bubbles, camera flash bulbs nearly blinding the pair. A carriage waited to take them to the reception hall.

"It's finally happened." Meg said as she sat back against the red leather seat of the white carriage. The driver wore a red and blue liveryman's uniform.

"What's happened?" Ben leaned in, hoping she felt alright.

"I've got everything I've ever dreamed of, I'm married to the man I love and I'm having a baby. This is the perfect day." She laid her hand on her barely puffy stomach.

"Your happiness is all I've ever wanted, Margaret." Ben slipped his arm around her and pulled her comfortably to his side, just where he always wanted her. He wanted to keep her close to his heart and protect her.

"I love you, Ben." Meg leaned into his embrace.

"I love you too, Meg." He felt perfectly content to keep riding along that way forever.

_**TYKTYKTYK**_


	22. Chapter 22 After the Honeymoon

_**After the Honeymoon ….**_

_** Month Number Nine ….**_

With the apartment finally finished, it was time to lay down and quit for the day. Meg had made her queen size bed, the sheets tight enough to bounce a quarter on. Ben turned it down for them, tossing the throw pillows aside.

"I'm so tired." Meg sighed as she lay on her customary side of the bed. Stretching out felt wonderful. She'd made a hundred trips through the new apartment, carrying baskets, supervising the movers and being as busy as humanly possible.

Ben slid into bed behind her. He felt nervous, he still hadn't gotten used to sleeping with someone. He lay very still, wondering how best to proceed. Gently, Meg scooted back in the bed until she felt her back against his chest.

"I won't break, Ben, relax." She found his hand and pulled his arm around her waist.

"I'm not accustomed to co-sleeping." Ben relaxed against her slightly.

"This will take some getting used to on both our parts I imagine." She yawned, lacing her fingers with his.

"There's still so much we have to learn about each other." Ben's voice sounded wistful in the darkness.

"You can ask me anything. I know what matters, the rest will come in time." Meg rolled over onto her back to look up at Ben.

"All of this is new territory, I'm not certain how to navigate." Ben admitted.

"I've never been married before, I haven't had a child, we'll just have to figure everything out as we go along." This uncertainty was a side of Ben that Meg had never seen, or anticipated. From what she gathered, he had been hurt in the past. Meg could understand, she could empathize.

"Lacking prior relationship experience, I fear I lack the skills necessary to provide adequate emotional support." Meg took a moment to translate.

"Answer me yes or no, do you love me?"

"Yes, absolutely."

"Do you love our baby?" Meg tried to maintain her patience. She felt so certain of her feelings it was difficult to fathom why Ben didn't.

"Yes, more than anything."

"You'll always have out best interests at heart and you'll help both of us however you can?" Meg persisted, her voice even.

"Yes, always." Ben answered, puzzled.

"Keep that in mind and you'll do just fine. I love you, now go to sleep." Meg slipped her arm around Ben and snuggled against his chest, conversation over. Ben squeezed her gently, loving her more than he thought humanly possible.

"That's better." Meg purred, enjoying Ben's embrace.

_**TYKTYKTYK**_

Fraser hummed as he painted the walls of the baby's room a bright, sky blue. He and Meg had been working on it for a week; painting trim, shampooing the carpet and assembling baby furniture. Ben continued working at the consulate in the mean time. Ray had been a big help, as had Frannie, in her own, flighty way.

"Are you hungry, Ben?" Meg called from the hallway as she put away linens.

"Yes, what did you have in mind?" Benton stepped down from the ladder to poke his head out the door.

"Tuna salad?" She suggested, closing the door her hands rubbing her bulging stomach.

"Wonderful." He called back. She rolled her eyes and went on to the kitchen, he'd eat anything she fixed.

A few minutes later Ben had washed up to join her. They sat down at the small kitchen table together. It felt strange to him to sit down with her, to see the gold ban on his left hand. There wasn't even a tan line yet.

"Are you alright, Ben?" Meg's voice cut through his thoughts.

"I'm fine." He took her hand, kissing the back, dispelling her fears. "Just trying to remember this is real."

"Oh yeah, I'm reminded it's real several times a day." She laid her hand on her stomach. Ben wished he knew how to relieve some of her burden.

"Let's eat, I believe all three of us are ready." Meg took a bite of tuna salad sandwich on wheat bread.

"Hey, how's my favorite Mounties?" Ray's voice interrupted.

"Hello, Ray, we were just sitting down to lunch." Ben pulled out a chair for the blond detective.

"I just finished, came by to see if you needed anything." He took a seat with them, sitting in the kitchen chair backwards.

"I could use some help painting the nursery, if you have the time." Ben offered.

"Yeah, sure." Ray agreed, stealing a Pringle from Ben's plate. The Mountie pushed his plate a bit toward the lanky detective.

Meg became very quiet and laid her sandwich down. Ben and Ray talked a few more minutes laughing over something Diefenbaker had done. The old wolf, sensing his name, walked over to the kitchen table. He laid his head on Meg's knee, his nose working over time. A second later he let out an urgent wolf and began dancing nervously.

"What's wrong, Diefenbaker?" Ben scooted his chair back.

"Ben, it's time." Meg's pale face startled him. She shoved her chair back. Her water had broken.

"You get her and I'll get the car." Ray jumped up, eager to be out of the way. Ben popped up at the same time.

"My bag is in the bedroom closet, let me get changed and we can leave." Meg took Ben's arm and stood up. She was two weeks early, which was terrifying.

"Let me bring you what you need." Ben offered, knowing Meg would be stubborn and want to go change in their bedroom.

"I'll be fine, Ben, we've made it this far in good shape, it'll be smooth sailing the rest of the way." She gave him a forced smile.

"I hope so." Ben walked with her to the bedroom while Ray went to get the Intrepid.

_**The Hospital ….**_

Ray put his emergency light on the dash, turned on the flashers and ignored just about every traffic law on the books to get Meg and Ben to the hospital. For once Ben didn't fuss at him for his disobedience, he was too busy timing Meg's contractions and worrying that he'd have to deliver the baby in the car.

Ray had called Turnbull on his cell to come get Dief while they were at the hospital and for him to call Meg's mother and Buck Frobisher. Everything else would just have to take a backseat.

Meg's obstetrician, Dr. Natalie Keith, arrived thirty minutes after the hospital called. Chicago traffic had snarled, catching her on her way to work. The capable, lady doctor strolled into the exam room with Meg's chart under her arm.

"How are we doing today, Margaret?" Dr. Keith asked, checking the latest vitals.

"What's going on, Doctor, I'm not due for another two weeks." Meg clasped Ben's hand like a vice.

"It's not unusual, let me examine you before you get out of sorts, okay?" The forty-ish doctor washed her hands before pulling on a pair of exam gloves and taking her place at Meg's feet.

"Everything will be alright, Meg, I'm right here." Ben reassured her with more calm than he actually felt.

"I wish Mother could have been here." Meg may have been a highly capable Inspector with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, but she still wanted her mom.

"I'm certain she'll be here as soon as possible, she wouldn't want to miss this either." The Constable pressed a kiss against the back of Meg's hand, wishing his own parents could be with him to welcome their grandchild.

"Alright, Margaret, I have good news and bad, which do you want to hear first?" Dr. Keith pulled off the exam gloves and tossed them into the trash.

"What's the bad news, Doctor?" Meg's fears rose even higher than before.

"The baby isn't quite in the best position, the good news is that the baby is healthy. I don't anticipate any major trouble but we are going to have to take the baby by C-Section." Dr. Keith stuffed her hands into her lab coat pockets, toying with empty butterscotch candy papers.

"Let's get to the operating room, now." Meg frowned, still gripping Ben's hand.

"I'll have them prep right now." Dr. Keith nodded, glad that Meg was the kind of woman who wasn't afraid to do what was necessary.

A few minutes later a nurse came in and began prepping Meg for the C-Section, running Ben out of the room to wait with Ray.

In the waiting room Ray stood by the window drinking a cup of coffee and checking out nurses. Frannie had arrived with congratulatory helium balloons.

"How's she doin'?" Ray asked, concerned. He didn't know much about pregnancy but he knew early wasn't a good thing.

"Dr. Keith said the baby wasn't in the best position for a natural birth so their going to perform a C-Section." Ben answered, his hands shoved into his jeans pockets.

"She'll be fine, Inspect, ah, she's tough." Frannie shrugged. She still couldn't get used to calling Inspector Thatcher 'Margaret' or 'Mrs. Fraser'.

"Thank you kindly, Francesca." Ben gave her a kind smile.

Ben waited in the dull, gray waiting room for word from Dr. Keith. He hated not being able to be in there with Meg, he'd been with her through everything so far. Ray tried to keep him occupied but the Mountie's single mindedness won out.

"Frannie, wanna get a sandwich or somethin' from the cafeteria?" The blond detective asked the Civilian Aide.

"No, I'm fine." Frannie shrugged, sitting next to Fraser, watching a soap opera on the television overhead.

"You sure, Frannie?" Ray asked again, this time nodding emphatically toward the hallway. The young woman just looked at him strangely.

"Francesca, I believe Ray would like you to accompany him to the cafeteria so that he may talk to you without my presence." Fraser urged. He was becoming tired of their concerned glances and awkward attempts at comfort.

"Oh, okay. You want anything, Frase?" Frannie asked, grabbing her purse.

"No, thank you." The Mountie shook his head. He couldn't manage anything as long as Meg and the baby were in the operating room.

"We'll be back soon, Fraser." Ray said as Frannie joined him at the waiting room entrance. The Mountie just nodded.

"I thought the Yank was having a seizure there for a moment." A familiar, male voice brought Ben back to the present.

"Dad, I haven't seen you in months. I had begun to wonder if you'd disappeared all together." Ben turned to see his father's ghost seated beside him in one of the faux leather seats.

"You've had your plate full lately, son, I thought I'd give you some room." Robert Fraser shrugged, his arms crossed over his red serge clad chest.

"Oh, I see." Fraser just nodded, taking it in stride. His father's enigmatic ways weren't anything new to his son. They sat in a companionable silence for a few minutes, Ben staring at the painting of day lilies on the opposite wall.

"She'll be alright." The old man said out of the blue.

"She will?" Ben turned, biting on his bottom lip as he studied his father's face, hoping he knew something in that way he had.

"Yes, Margaret will be fine, so will the boy." Robert Fraser said nonchalantly.

"I'm going to have a son?" Ben's blue eyes shone with excitement.

"You know, it took your mother over thirty hours to have you. I thought you never were going to come out." The old Mountie shook his head, thinking back to the first year of his marriage.

"Dad, you said I'm going to have a son?" Ben re-directed him, sitting on the edge of his seat.

"That's what the doctor said, someone will be along any minute to get you."

"Mr. Fraser?" A nurse's bright, alto voice interrupted the Canadians. When Ben turned back to the seat where his father had been sitting it was empty.

"Mr. Fraser?" The nurse called again.

"Yes, that's me." Ben popped up quickly.

"You can see your wife and baby now." The slight, brunette nurse said with a smile.

"Thank you kindly." Ben followed her into the recovery room where Meg lay with the newborn in her arms. She looked up from her son to her husband. She stretched her free hand out to take his.

"Isn't he beautiful, Ben, he's perfect." She cried as she looked down into the infant's face. His tiny fingers stretched up to her as his eyes blinked against the harsh lights overhead.

"He's wonderful, Meg." Ben couldn't identify the swirl of emotions moving like a tornado in his gut; pride, relief, love, fear?

"He's ours, Ben, all ours." The lady Mountie let the tears fall down her cheeks, she didn't care if anyone saw her crying, this was the best day of her life.

"Our miracle baby." Ben whispered, gently touching the baby's cheek. He looked from his son to his wife. Silently, he leaned over and pressed a kiss against her temple, glad and relieved to have both of them safe and healthy.

"I didn't know a person could contain this much love for another human being, much less two." She chuckled, feeling exhausted and dopey from the medication.

"What's his name?" Ben asked. They hadn't really discussed a name, he thought she'd decided on one during the IVF process.

"I don't know, what do you want?" Meg looked up at him, her dark eyes so big in her pale face.

"I thought you'd decided on a name months ago, I hadn't given it any thought." Ben admitted.

"Benton Fraser, you're a father and you hadn't given it any thought?" Meg said incredulously in her 'Inspector' voice.

"Harry, it was your father's name." Ben suggested after a moment's thought.

"Nope, too many jokes. Dad's middle name was Alan, it's much less likely to be made fun of as he grows up." Meg suggested, vetoing her husband's suggestion.

"Alan Fraser, I like the sound of that." Ben tried the name out. He'd often wondered how parents chose their children's names. It had never occurred to him that he'd be giving another person their identity.

"How does Robert Alan Fraser sound?" Meg suggested, studying Ben's reaction. She saw the spark of pleasure in his eyes.

"That's a fine name, my father would be pleased, as would yours." Ben nodded.

"Would you like to hold him, Ben?" Meg asked, adjusting Robert Alan's position.

"Oh dear." Ben said before he could stop himself. The baby was so small, barely bigger than both of his hands.

"You'll do fine." The new mom urged. Cautiously, Ben held his son for the first time. To be so little, Robert Alan had changed so much in both his parents' lives.

"Hello, son, I've been waiting to meet you my whole life." Ben whispered as he studied the baby's face.

"I hate to, but I have to take the baby." A nurse interrupted the new parents. She carefully took the baby from Ben's arms.

"And I have to take you to your room." Another nurse had come for Meg.

"Give us about twenty minutes and you can come see her, alright." Meg's nurse said as she began squaring the lady Mountie away for travel. Gently, Ben took Meg's hand and pressed a kiss against her forehead.

"I'll be with you as soon as I can, Sweet Meg." He whispered against her sweat drenched hair. He walked with her out into the hallway then stood watching the nurse wheel his wife toward her hospital room.

"Hey, Fraser, what's the news?" Ray's voice interrupted the Mountie's thoughts.

"Meg and the baby are both fine." Ben smiled, almost dizzy with relief.

"Is it a boy or girl?" Frannie asked, excited, despite herself.

"A boy, Robert Alan Fraser." The proud father announced.

"How much did he weigh, how long was he?" Frannie dumped two questions in the space of one.

"I don't know." Ben chuckled, he hadn't thought that far. Meg and the baby were alright and that's all that counted.

_**The End**_


End file.
